Claws and Cloaks
by kkolmakov
Summary: Written in collaboration with Wynni and RagdollPrincess. What happens when the fight against the evil brings together the sons of wolves and the fiercest daughters of a hunters clan? Fairytale AU where the Heirs of Durin are not fond of the full moon but are keen on two huntresses and a healer *No Infringement Intended*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My darlings, the wolf story is finally here! **

**It's being written in collaboration with Wynni and RagdollPrincess, and the first three chapters are identical to chapter 5 of "Fairytales From Under the Mountain" and chapters 1 and 2 from "Bedtime Stories From Under the Mountain." After that, yowzah! :)**

_Written by __kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

The girl steps out of deep shadows between the trees, into the circle of dim liquid light around the campfire, and the man sitting on a fallen tree lifts his eyes. She is small, wrapped in a bright red cloak, hood covering the upper half of her face.

"Do you mind if I join you, kind sir?" She has a confident voice, with a sarcastic lilt, and he invites her with a wide gesture of his hand. She sits down and throws the hood off her face. It is angular, freckled, high cheekboned. Her lively green eyes study his face, and she smiles. There is a bow and a quiver on her back, and a long narrow sword in a scabbard on her belt. "They say it is a dangerous forest, I think it would be wise to share the campfire."

Her eyes run over his armour, a heavy two handed sword on the ground near his foot, dark blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He smirks darkly.

"What makes you think that whatever is lurking in these forests is more dangerous than a complete stranger you ran into at night?" He turns the metal skewer with a deer leg suspended over his fire and offers her a wine skin. She accepts and takes a big swig. She doesn't answer his question, her eyes glued to the fire. He is quiet as well, turning the meat over the fire.

Suddenly a loud howl carried by the wind makes them both jolt and put their hands on the handles of the swords.

"A wolf?" He asks, and she shakes her head.

"That is no wolf," her voice is hollow, and she fixes the quiver on her back. "They say there are monsters living in these forests. They have different names but most say they are half-wolves, half-people, changing into blood-thirsty beasts with the phases of the moon. Some say that with age they learn to shapeshift at will. They also say there were a lot of them, a whole clan, but now there are but a few. But again, that is just villagers telling fairy tales perhaps," she relaxes and stretches her legs to the fire. He notices that she has tiny feet in very comfortable, worn down boots. These boots have seen a lot of road. Just as the bow and the sword in the scabbard have seen a lot of fight.

"And what are you doing in the forests supposedly inhabited by monsters, my lady?" He pokes the meat with a knife to check it for blood.

"I am visiting my grandmother." She looks at him askew and takes another swig from his wine skin.

"In the village?"

"Not exactly," she pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders. There is a light chainmail on her, hugging her slender body. "And you? What are you doing in the forests?"

"Visiting relatives in the village," they both know he is lying, and she nods.

"I wouldn't expect any other answer from you," she smiles coldly and turns to him. Her eyes are suddenly sharp, and she chuckles. "You do realize you shouldn't wear the buckle with your family crest if you want to preserve anonymity? There are none of your kin in the village." He smirks.

"I like this belt. You are not so discreet yourself, with your red cloak typical for your craft and the hunter's sword." She gently strokes the handle.

"It was my father's."

"So that grandmother of yours? Is she a huntress too?"

"Are you suddenly worried you might have met her in your travels, my lord?" Her tone is sarcastic. "Worry not, she is not a huntress. She lives beyond the forest, in a small house."

"The blind witch?!" His eyebrows jump up. "So which one are you, a hunter or a healer?" His eyes run over her body.

"I don't like to be put in a box, my lord. One doesn't have to be limited and determined by one's vocation."

"Yes, but these two are rather the opposites. Healers tend to the wounded no matter the cause, and… no matter the race, while hunters kill anyone and anything they are properly paid for." She narrows her eyes at him.

"Hunters kill those who are dangerous. We do have a code, you know." He makes a derisive noise.

"Tell it to the innocent children of those you called monsters just a few minutes ago." She clenches her jaws, and he sees her hand slide on the handle of the sword.

"Tell that to the village children torn apart in their sleep." Their eyes are locked, and he smirks.

"How did you know? Of what I am?" His hands are relaxed on his knees, his sword beyond his reach, but she knows he wouldn't be using his sword if he decides to attack her. "No one knew about my family, and the crest wouldn't have told you anything."

"The deer." She points at the meat above the fire with her eyes. He questioningly cocks a brow. "You don't have a bow. I can hardly imagine you catching it on foot and killing it with your sword. The teeth marks on the skin though are quite obvious." She throws a look at the deer skin lying near his feet, and that's when he jumps at her. She is ready for him though, her small swift body shifts, and he lands on an empty spot. He quickly turns, but she is already pressing her knife to his throat.

"Aren't you too slow for a lycanthrope?" She is looking into his blue eyes, and he suddenly smiles widely.

"Out of practice. I haven't shifted in ten years. Only managed to catch the deer from the third attempt, and it drained me." She presses the blade to his Adam's apple, and he swallows with difficulty. "I guess I am getting old."

"What are you doing in the forest, wolf? Your people haven't been seen here for more than twelve years." He doesn't answer, his eyes roaming her face.

"I remember your father, Wren from Leary. He was an honourable man." The blade in her hands doesn't jerk, but she clasps it harder, her knuckles now white.

"He died hunting your family, and you call him honourable?"

"He never touched an innocent. Will you?" He looks directly into her eyes. Her hands aren't shaking.

"Who is in the forests, wolf?"

"My nephews. They are young, that is one of their firsts shifts, they know nothing of the beast inside. I am looking after them." He can see she is pondering whether to believe him. "Put your knife down, huntress. You have no work here."

"You know that I have a way to check it, right?" He nods solemnly. She moves the blade slightly away from his throat, and they simultaneously realize the position they are in. She is straddling him, their faces close, her orange curls scattered on his shoulders. He is splayed on the ground under her, one of his hands on her thigh, on the thin linen of her trousers.

"Do your trick, huntress," his voice is low and velvet, and for the first time she notices what he looks like. Before she was looking trying to guess the clan and the age, now she notices the noble profile, prominent nose, and the sensual line of lips. He has beautiful eyes, elongated and bright, like most of his kind, but blue and not light brown other wolf people have. There is silver in his hair on the temples and above his brow, the strands long and silky, splayed on the ground, and she realizes her other hand is pressed to his chest. She can feel his heart beating frantically even through the tunic and the brigandine. Heat is coming off in waves from him, his kind is always hotter than men from the village.

She sits up straighter on him, trying not to think of how her pelvis presses into his, and he lifts one of his hands to her. She picks it up and quickly slices his palm with the hunter's knife. The blood on his palm is red, not black. He is innocent. She nods and climbs off him. He is still lying on the ground, when she comes up to her sack and pulls out a jar of balm and bandages. He chuckles.

"A healer as well after all?" She turns to him and gives him a dark look.

She comes back to him but he doesn't get up. She lifts a brow questioningly, and he gives her a pointedly innocent look. With a sigh she straddles him again and starts attending to the cut. It isn't deep, she held back. He is studying her face.

"And I thought all huntresses are supposedly very enticing, their beauty yet another defense against wolves. Since we are supposedly more libidinous than ordinary men." She is wrapping a bandage around his large hand and ties its ends, her face unreadable.

"It is all old wives' tales, wolf. We are women like all other, and as you can see some of us are even less alluring than the ugly daughter of the smith all village laughs at." She lowers her face to the knot on the bandage and bites one of the ends. She pulls at it, tying it tighter, when he sharply sits up and suddenly his eyes are right in front of hers.

"What they tell about the wolves isn't an old wives' tale though," his voice is lower, raspy, and she slowly releases the end of the bandage from between her teeth. He is staring at her red lips. There is a moment of silence between them, and then she chuckles.

"Indeed?" She releases his hand, and he slowly put it on her waist. She has plenty of time to stop him, but she doesn't. "Should you not be watching your nephews, wolf?" He slightly tilts his head and gives her a lopsided smirk.

"They will be fine. They are slightly reckless, but good lads." She nods satisfied with his answer and catches his mouth. His hands slide under her red cloak, arms wrap around her small body, and she closes her eyes. It has been a while since she's been held by a man, and she thinks it seems perhaps never have felt this good. He closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss. It has been a while since he has held a woman in his arms, and he is certain it never felt that good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Written by __kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

His lips were warm, his breath fresh, slightly smelling of the wine they both drank, and she trailed the tip of her tongue on the downside of his upper lip. She heard her belt click, and his hot palms slid under her chainmail and her tunic, his long fingers almost locking around her waist. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and heard him groan quietly.

"More libidinous than normal men, you said?" She chuckled into the kiss, and her tongue brushed over his. He opened his eyes and smiled. He pushed his hands into her hair now and pulled her head back, looking attentively into her face. The amber eyes grew clouded, her red lips slightly open, and he cocked a brow sardonically.

"Will I wake up with a hunter's knife between my shoulder blades after this, huntress?"

She leaned closer and whispers into his lips, "Depends on your performance, wolf." He chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm old, Wren of Leary, do not expect anything majestic." They laughed together, and suddenly she picked up a strand of his hair and twirled it around her finger.

"How old?" He understood the meaning and brushed his lips on her jaw.

"I wasn't here during the Big Hunt twelve years ago, but I lost my brother and grandfather." She stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. He saw sympathy in her eyes, and with gratitude he pressed his lips to her cheekbone. She tilted her head, and he placed a kiss on her jaw, and then another one lower, with a strange familiarity, on the pulse beating on her neck. There his mouth stayed, and he listened to her heart pumping the blood through her veins. Some other sound seemed to permeate his hearing, and he slid his mouth lower, his finger hooked at the collar of her soft tunic. He pulled and felt her smooth cool skin on his lips. He swirled his tongue on it, enjoying the silkiness and the faint smell of lilacs, when she softly exhaled, her hands returning the favour. The pulps of her delicate fingers drew patterns on the skin of his nape. He picked up the chainmail and pulled it off her. He shortly thought she was too trustful towards his kind, or any man for that matter, and then he forgot the thought, as her palm snaked under his brigandine and tunic and lay on his stomach. He was ignoring the strange resonating hum in his head, savouring the taste of her now uncovered collarbones.

"Take off your armour, wolf," her voice was raspy, and he gladly complied. He considered taking off the legwear as well, the cuisses would be uncomfortable for her, and then he felt her fingers working deftly at the clasps. Since he released her neck, she took charge and gently nipped at his ear. He growled. Her teeth were now on his neck, and she bit carefully, but it was sensitive. He jerked his head and looked at her attentively. And then the noise he had been brushing off this whole time finally reached his hazy mind. It was the sound of her blood rushing. He tensed. The wolf would hear it when hunting, but he was not shifted and she was no deer. To chase it away he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. She readily arched into him, opened her mouth for him and grabbed handfuls of his hair. He twisted his body and toppled her on the ground, weighing on her. Her skin tasted of woods, and smoke, and fallen leaves.

"What is your name, wolf?" He lifted his face. Her eyes were smiling.

"Darius," he leaned in and picked up the string of her tunic's lacing with his teeth. He pulled, and she giggled. He didn't know huntresses giggled.

"Ten years, huh?" Her tone was mischievous, "You're still good with your teeth, as I can see." He chuckled and slid down. He pushed her shirt up and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach. She was taut and warm even to his wolf senses, and he heard her gasp softly. And then a painful shudder ran through his body, and he jerked away from her. His fingers curled sharply on the ground, nails dug into the fallen leaves and dirt, and he dropped his head. He momentarily wondered if that was some sort of human illness befalling him. He knew wolves were immune, but that was odd. He surely couldn't have been shifting, he had learnt to control the beast more than two decades ago.

But all the signs were there, the excruciating pain in every muscle, blurred vision, ringing in his ears. He groaned and pushed away from her further. He rolled away, on his stomach again, and tried to get up. Another shudder quaked his body, and he snarled. He tried to see his hands, he was supporting himself on one elbow and a straight arm, but all he saw were the veins bulging on them, no changes. It felt like changing though, now that he finally heard the inner din. It was the same drunkenness, the sudden desire to let go, to relinquish inhibitions. His jaws clenched in the sweet anticipation, and then he cursed silently. He couldn't let it happen. He remembered of the woman a step away from him. He shook his head, his spine twisting and aching, and looked at her. He expected either terror in her eyes or her father's sword clenched in her hand. He saw neither. She was still on the ground, her shirt bunched up, leaning back on her elbows, and his sharpening, mid-shifting vision grasped the pale skin of the stomach, the hip bones, he apparently had loosened the belt and pulled her trousers down, her peaks puckered under the shirt, and then his nose caught the smell of her arousal. He growled loudly, and then suddenly she laughed.

"You have mentioned you are old, you never said you were getting senile, wolf." Had he not been fighting a wolf and losing, he wouldn't have heard the trembling of the voice she was hiding underneath the sarcasm. "Stop fighting it."

"No," he sneered through his teeth. He felt disoriented. He couldn't gather where it came from. More so, he couldn't understand why she wasn't running. "I'll hurt you… It's strange… I'm not controlling it…"

"Of course you aren't," her voice was suddenly soft, she shifted, he couldn't see, and her small strong palm cupped his face. He wondered if the teeth were already longer, and recoiled from the thought of sinking them into her hand. "Darius, look at me," he lifted his burning eyes at her and met her soft warm look. "Stop fighting it, Darius. You are not shifting, you are mating." His whole body jolted, and he fell his face down into damp leaves.

Her arms pushed under his shoulders, and she rolled him on his back. His back arched, another painful wave ran through him, and he felt her fingers run on his face. She was making comforting noises, and he let go. Images flashed before his eyes, some sensual and graphic, some vague and warm, explosions of sparks, sensations, he gasped and took a giant gulp of air. Smells, tastes, tingling in the tips of his fingers, and then all over his skin, and then heat, he felt his body and mind change and transform, but for once it had nothing to do with the animal inside. He screamed, not from pain, but from the piercing sensation of being finally alive. His heart beating painfully in his throat, he thrashed on the ground, his short nails scraping at it, he felt her gently but firmly holding him, and then his body slacked, and his eyes closed.

The world slowly returned, and he took a cautious breath in. The smells seemed more intense, and he realized he was trying to catch her fragrance in the air. He didn't need to look far, she was lying on him, her backside on the ground, but her upper torso on him. She had a hand under her cheek, over his heart, and her other hand was stroking his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at the starry sky. It seemed too colourful, somewhat resembling the feeling of just a bit too much ale, but more intense. He lifted his hand and put it on her back, between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," her voice was tender, "That looked very painful." Her hand slipped from his shoulder, and she brushed it on his throat. "Are you alright?" The question was so absurd that he guffawed. She lifted her head, and their eyes finally met. He thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. And then immediately hunger rose. He ground his teeth, to eject the clear image of ripping off her shirt from his mind, but it only led to him imagining doing it with his teeth. And then he envisioned sinking the said teeth into his backside. Even before it all started he couldn't help but notice the perky round buttocks.

"So you are a butt man?" Her tone was impish, and he froze. She tapped her index finger on the tip of his nose. "The mind link, remember? For the first few hours, and all through life during mating, if it's done right, of course."

Two thoughts rushed through his mind. Even ignoring the irony of being mated to a huntress, he couldn't help but wonder in what universe that was a good match, and why she seemed content about it.

She suddenly straddled him, and leaning low she purred in his ear, "No one chooses their Half, and you are not the worst of them there," her lips brushed his ear, and he shivered. He had very little control left and wanted to tell her that, but then remembered that she knew. "I don't need your control, darling. I'm all yours." Her voice dropped, and he gnarled and threw her off him. She landed on the ground with an oomph, only to laugh throatily from the view of his tearing his armour in jerky uncoordinated movements.

"Get undressed..." His voice hardly submitted to him, but he saw her pull at the strings on her trousers. He closed his eyes, any more skin visible and he'd jump at her, probably biting and scratching her. His tunic, boots, trousers flew on the ground, followed by undergarments, and then, before he opened his eyes her absolutely naked body suddenly pressed into him. He gasped and opened his eyes. She was stretched on him, wrapped around him, cool, supple, lithe, refreshing and intoxicating, like water in a spring, like the wind in the branches during his first shift, like the first gulp of air on a frosty morning. Her copper curls ran between his fingers, amber eyes loving and brilliant in front of him, and he took a deep breath in, inhaling her, hearing her blood and welcoming her smell. The world halted around, and in the perfect harmony of his new life he smiled to her tenderly and kissed her red lips.

The hunger was gone, replaced by longing, and she whispered, "Yes, Darius, yes..." He rolled her underneath him, her legs locking around his hips as if in the thousandth time, and he slid into her. Both of them closed their eyes, immobile and elated, and then he peeked, cheating, and licked across her lips. She giggled and rubbed her calf to his backside. "Don't get me wrong, that feels wonderful, but do you mind moving already, love?" He shortly thought that she indeed wasn't a good match for him. She was the perfect one. He experimentally rolled his hips into her, making her gasp, and immediately her arms tightened on his neck. He rose on his elbows, his palms under her shoulder blades, something in the delicate bone structure and pale skin mesmerizing him, or perhaps he was just protecting her back from the pine cones and needles on the ground, and she moaned. That was a new sound, open and vulnerable, her snark gone, and he saw her pupils dilate and her lips open slightly. "Darius..."

"Mine..." He murmured back and pushed into her deeper. Her teeth sank in her bottom lip, and he felt her pelvis answer to his thrust. He moved again, she lifted her hips off the ground, trying to take him in deeper, and he closed his eyes in the perfect pleasure. Small and tight, she felt welcoming, accepting, she felt like home, and he moaned loudly. He was rolling into her, harder and deeper with each time, and soon he realized their intertwined bodies were rising off the ground with each of his thrusts, they were shifting, and she punctuated each of his moves with a loud cry. Her face was distant, absorbed in the passion, and he rasped, "Wren, look at me..." He needed her eyes, her heart, her soul at that very moment, and her lashes flew up. She met his eyes and smiled.

"Love..." She breathed out, and he buried his face into her neck, hiding the tears, his hips rocking into her again and again, her soft moans in the forest air, one of her hands at the back of his head, firm and caressing, another one pressed to his skin on his middle, and he shattered. He sobbed, his voice mixing with her triumphant cry, and then he sank even deeper into her. His arms couldn't hold him anymore, and he collapsed onto her. She purred, her slender arms finding their way around his middle, and he exhaled loudly. He tried not to pant, but unsuccessfully, and then he chuckled shakily.

"What?" Her voice was cordial, and he rose on his elbows to look into her eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, eyes shiny, and he gazed at her with pleasure. She was adorable, with a slightly smug expression, curls scattered on the ground, one strand stuck to her sweaty temple, red lips twitching in a small smile.

"I want to take a bath with you. And love you on sheets. Proper sheets, and wine and cheese… We need wine and cheese..." He was blabbering, and he didn't care. He grinned to her widely, and she sniggered.

"Oh, now you want to be a gentleman." He cocked a brow, and she leered at him. "I will indeed need a bath. And perhaps a backrub. I have sensitive skin, and I think we just had a threesome with a pinecone." He snorted and quickly kissed her.

"I have to wait till morning and look after my nephews, but after that..." He was going to paint some other pleasant plans for her, when he remembered what exactly he and his nephews were doing in the forest. He choked on his words and saw her face grow serious. He clenched his teeth. He didn't want it to end, he wasn't done. He wanted to talk nonsense to her, make suggestive remarks, ask her when exactly she realized what was happening to him, and then he was certain he would want another time with her. Perhaps two. He threw a look at her shoulders and small breasts, and realized that perhaps three. And before anything he wanted to have a closer look at her peaks, perky and mouth-watering, he didn't even kiss them once. But then he met her eyes and realized that they were to have a completely different conversation now.

"Tell me," her tone was sober, and he sighed. He rolled off, both of them groaning quietly when his member slid out of her, and they started getting dressed. In tunics and trousers, he didn't let her put anything else, he pulled her on his lap, wrapping their cloaks around them. She tucked her feet between his legs for warmth, her head lay on his shoulder, and he embraced her. They sat for a while in silence, simply appreciating how perfectly they fit together, and then he exhaled loudly.

"I didn't want to come here… Innocent or not, wolves are not welcome here, but so it happened..."


	3. Chapter 3

_Written by __kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

"I didn't want to come here… Innocent or not, wolves are not welcome here, but so it happened that we were travelling through the woods, when both my nephews started feeling sick," he looked at her sideways, making sure she understood. The first shift for wolfkin was painful, the day before it they felt weak, nauseated, emotions running rampant, and then the night would come, and the beast burst out of them. It would take years for them to learn to control it. She nodded, her fingers drawing swirls on his chest. It was distracting, and he covered her hand with his. "One of them is older, but they shifted together. We really shouldn't have washed them in the same bath all through these years," she chuckled, and he smiled. "Last night was their Initial Shift, I've never seen anyone throw up so much in the morning." They both chuckled this time.

"Were you all fresh and perky on your first morning?" Her tone was sarcastic, but there was no bite in it.

"I didn't have the first morning. I woke up at noon, hungry as..." He trailed away impishly, and she swatted his chest, and he quickly kissed her ear. "I decided we could stay here. Wolfkin hadn't been seen here for twelve years, villagers would have forgotten. We stayed away from the swamps obviously, your grandmother could probably end us with some spell while finishing her evening cuppa." She nodded absent-mindedly. Grandma Leary, the Blind Witch, lost her hunter son and her daughter-in-law in the Big Hunt. She wouldn't kill an innocent, but uncontrollable diarrhea and complete hair loss spells were among her favourites. "And then a huntress stepped out of the woods..." He pressed his smiling lips to her temple and closed his eyes, inhaling her smell.

"Why were surprised when you mated? Isn't it something they tell you about since you lot are pups?" He considered smacking her round bum for insolence, but restrained himself. They wouldn't talk if he did.

"I'm slightly past my prime, Wren, if you haven't noticed. " She snirtled. "And honestly, a huntress... And a skinny ginger for that matter…" She pushed away from him and gave him a glare. He pressed his lips to contain a smile.

"Not funny, wolf! You try being the ugliest of three girls in the family!" Sincere doubt crawled in her voice, and he gave her an attentive look. He opened his mouth, but she clasped her small hand over his mouth. "No compliments, please. Your opinion doesn't count. I'm your Half, you can never be objective… For you I am a goddess." His brows jumped up. He shook his head to release his mouth from her cool dry palm.

"And that's a bad thing how?" She snorted, and then her face grew serious again.

"No mawkishness. Tell me where you were travelling." He sighed heavily. He still wasn't sure he should be telling her anything. Intellectually he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it from her, they were mates now, but he stubbornly fought the urge to include her. He kept silent and then noticed her giving him a doubtful look from under her brow. He internally cursed, she was a huntress and knew everything about his kind. His inner struggle was as clear as day to her at the moment, and he could bet his best armour she was laughing at him inside.

"No need to look so smug, huntress." She purposefully wiggled her bum on his lap, settling more comfortably. If she was trying to remind him of what had just transpired between them, she succeeded. His satiation had ebbed, and he shifted on the fallen tree they were sitting on. She meanwhile was feigning a polite patient expression as if inviting him to take his time in his futile efforts to fight his nature. He clenched his jaws.

"Your attempts to remain all tough and alpha are adorable," she sing-songed, and that's when he decided a smack was due. The sound was clear and tasty, and her eyes grew twice the normal size. He smirked, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that a smart move, wolf? I will land you on your back before you can say _woof_."

"Oh, I am counting on it," he wiggled his brows. He hoped to distract her, but underestimated her stubborness.

"Do you want me to wait till the morning and ask your nephews? If I gather it right, I'm their alpha female now, they won't say no... to anything I ask of them." She drew innocently, and the alpha in him growled. He suppressed the animal's possessiveness. All jesting aside, he indeed wasn't that young, he had years of experience of dealing with the double nature of his kind's emotions. The beast would react first, snarling and raging, the man was slightly more reasonable.

He cocked a brow and gave her a look. She was his mate now, and he hoped he could trust her to be conscious of his kind's peculiarities. Bonded to a human woman or man, wolfkin had to face a lot of vexations. It was hard to find an understanding person. Wolfkin bonded for life, previously he had thought of it as almost slavery. They had no choice, they were weak and defenseless against the ones they loved. They loved with their whole heart, humans could always leave. Darius had seen too many of his kind suffering. He often had felt fortunate having not met his Half for most part of his life. Although, at the moment he would say he had been a massive idiot. She smiled to him softly, leaned in and kissed his neck.

"Tell me everything, please," her tone was soft, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter, "I want to help." Her palm lay over his heart, and she tucked her head under his chin. The gesture was earnest and vulnerable, and he pressed his cheek to the crown of her curly head.

"What do you know of children being given up into the servitude to imps?" She jerked her face up, and he saw she was blanched. "It was before the Hunt, my sister was carrying her younger one. Her husband was coming back from a trip with merchants, he was a sword for hire, but the hunters stopped the merchants on the road, and he didn't pass the blood test… He attacked them first. He died in a ditch by the road, and when Deadre found out, she started bleeding, we thought she wouldn't make it. And that's when the imp came." He clenched his jaw, she was sitting quietly in his arms. "He both saved my sister and ensured that Killiare was born safely. And then he bound Killiare to a seven year service when my nephew were to reach the battle age. He did last month, and we are taking him to the imp."

"Does he know where you are travelling?" She knew the answer, it seemed, and he gravely shook his head.

"We are hoping to offer his brother's or my service instead. He is so young..." He trailed away. He could still hear his sister's howling when the three of them were living the village their kin were dwelling in these days. They had to lock her in a cellar, she shifted, and he could hear her clawing and raging under the heavy wooden door. He and Philippe, the older one, kept quiet, and Killiare didn't dare asking. The boy was exceptionally perceptive, he knew something was going on even before his mother lost her composure, but he would never challenge his uncle's judgement.

"Are you bringing gold to try to pay him off?" He nodded and looked at her attentively. "You do know it won't work?" She rubbed her face with her palms, and then suddenly she started laughing. The laughter was so hollow and desperate, that he cupped her face and made her look into his eyes. She choked on the sound, and the insanity left her eyes. "Do you know what I am doing in the woods?" She suddenly buried her face in his neck, in a trusting, unguarded gesture, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He realized she was shaking. "I am going to my Grandmother to discuss what to do with my cousin Carys, who is to be shipped from home to serve the equal term as your nephew. She is a healer in training. Her sister, Nerys, my apprentice, is to bring her to my Grandmother to finish her training, and then we are to send her away. She is just a child..." He pulled her head closer, his large palm cupping her jaw under her ear, and she exhaled loudly. "You are making me soft, I need to be angry… " He was silent, shocked by her words. "We are quite a pair, aren't we?" She chuckled, but the sound came out dead.

"How much time does your cousin have?"

"Three moons. She is home with her mother right now. How do they always know?.." She asked seemingly not addressing him.

"Who knows what?"

"The imps. They always know which children will grow up exceptional. I'm sure it's the same with your younger nephew. They somehow manage to pluck the best. Carys is a wonder, she is smart, talented, she is full of light! She has an amazing intuition when it comes to healing physical and emotional pain. People love her, and she is just… pure sunlight. The village was dying, there was a plague, and he came. He needed a payment, a child promised to him for later, we all were small then, just girls… I was eight, but I already understood what was going on. I was hoping he'd take me. But again who would want a skinny, ugly ginger… And…" Her voice broke, but then he saw her clench a fist. Her body grew tense, and he could almost feel her mind work, evaluating and making decisions. And then she exhaled sharply, straightened up and looked in his eyes. "My other cousin, Nerys, we will wait for her at Grandma's. Your imp will not withstand two hunters, and we will take him down and get your nephew out."

"You can't, Wren. He didn't break a contract, he has no crime on him. He is, so to say, not a monster," his tone was bitter, but then he grabbed her head, his hands on the sides of her face, his voice hardly controlled from the fierce love and amusement he felt, "Where have you been all these years, Wren of Leary? And how did I survive without you?" She pushed his hands away, twitching her nose in irritation, and he guffawed. His emotions were understandably in havoc today. She was ready to fight for him, he looked at her in admiration.

"Darius, we can do it. I'm sure we can find a loophole, three blades added into the equation will help." He was still chuckling, admiring her fiery stare and flaming locks.

"Three?"

"Nerys carries two. She is deadly. She once took down two swamp trolls on her own. She was twelve at the time." He whistled in wonder, but then remembered that she was planning to rush in the middle of his fight.

"Wren..."

"Don't argue with me, we are going." He decided that kissing her was the easiest way to stop her. She fought a bit, but it was an obvious pretense. Otherwise, she wouldn't be grinding her pelvis into his, her quick fingers in his mane again. He started pushing her on the ground, when she pressed her palms in his chest and gave him a strict stare, "Promise me we are all going." He wished there were a way to lie to one's mate. "Darius..." Her tone was menacing.

"Yes, Wren." He knew when he was beaten. "We are all going. And after that my nephews and I will help your cousin. Deal?"

"Deal," she conceded, and then in a trained movement she twisted out of his arms, her slender legs went around his waist, and her intentions became quite obvious. He smirked. Luckily, they coincided with his.

He slid from the tree on the ground, on his back, making sure she didn't bump her knees, and she settled on him more comfortably. His palms lay on her buttocks, just as he was craving this whole time, and she chuckled. She pressed her hands into his chest and lowered her lips on his.

"I want to see you all, Wren," he murmured, asking, not demanding, and she jerked off her tunic. His large palms covered her small, pale breasts, and she arched into his touch. "You are so familiar..." For the life of him he didn't know where it came from, but she was. She smiled blissfully and run her fingers over his face, the tips of her fingers grazing the bridge of his nose, her thumb ran on his bottom lip, and she made a soft purring noise. "When did you guess?" He didn't need to explain.

"I didn't, not till the last moment..." She leaned in and gently bit into his beard covered jaw, one of her hands on the ground near his head, the second one opening his trousers. "You started shaking, and I realized I was your mate." She sounded endlessly pleased to say it out loud.

"Then why?..." Her fingers slid down, brushed his hipbone and then wrapped around the base of his member. He took a large, open mouthed gulp of air, and she smirked.

"Are you suddenly finding my morale reproachable, wolf?" She twisted her wrist, her palm and thumb caressing just the right way. "You didn't seem to mind my loose ways before..." He opened the eyes he wasn't aware had been closed, he even forgot where his hands were, she was creating some sort of magic with her deft cool palm. His thumbs stroked her peaks, and then he moved his hands lower, grazing her ribs and making her giggle. He pulled the strings on her trousers, she slightly got up, pulling them off, and then she sank on him, her back arching, a raspy moan on her lips.

"Oh, I will pay for this tomorrow..." She murmured, but he didn't hear. Her hips started moving, and everything disappeared for him, except the tight hot walls of her quim, her soft gasps, and the feeling of absolute balance in the world around him. His hands flew to her buttocks again, cupping them, helping her to move, and he dropped his head back. It felt magnificent to give up control for once, let someone else set the rhythm, give in and give up. His hips had another idea though, his pelvis would buck up to meet her, and suddenly she stopped. His eyes flew open, and he stared at her.

"Down, boy," she smirked, and he snarled at her. "I won't tell anybody you are not the Big Bad Wolf when it's just the two of us." She purred, the corners of her lips twitching. He guffawed again and released her hips. He places his hands on the ground, near his head, and she leaned down to his lips. "That's much better..." She had strong legs, her movement were forceful and rhythmical, and he closed his eyes. There was a logic in the choice of a mate after all, and he pressed the back of his head into the fallen leaves. She would rise over him, and then her hips would plummet down, with an interesting twist, and soon enough the pleasure built up in him. At the same time she started moving faster, her previously impeccable rhythm stuttered, and then she climaxed, bending backwards. The quivering of her inner walls pushed him over the edge, and he groaned. She fell on him, her palms slid from his chest, along his arms, he shifted his arms, and their fingers intertwined. In a strange accordance they moved several more times, each one of them instinctively trying to prolong the pleasure of the other. After the last quakes of their release subsided, she nuzzled his neck.

"For once I'm not going to be cold at night in the woods..." Her voice was slightly sleepy, and he laughed softly. He had to be awake, keeping watch for his nephews, but he liked the idea of her sleeping near him. They got up, fixing their clothes, wrapping in the cloaks, and he started tending to the fire.

She was sitting pressed into his side, and he asked softly, "Are you hungry? There is still venison..." She didn't answer, and he saw she was sleeping. The long lashes lay under her eyes, and he tenderly looked at the freckled nose. In her sleep she looked younger, small hands fisted in an almost childish gesture, and he leaned back on the trunk of the nearest tree, arranging her in his arms. She sniffled in her sleep and buried her nose deeper into his cloak. He sat and listened to the woods and the even beating heart of his beloved.


	4. Chapter 4

_Written by __Wynni_

CARYS/PHILIPPE

Carys wondered why it was that the nuttiest plans always seem sanest when first thought. She hurried through the darkening woods, praying to catch up to Wren before it got too dark. She had some woodcraft, but not enough she wanted to try her luck in the dark by herself. She knew she was probably praying in vain. Wren was quite likely already tucked up at Gram's sipping that infamous hot chocolate and eating those heavenly scones. People had been known to travel over the mountains for Gramma's scones, not just her medicines; though learning those was the reason Carys was trying to push on when she should have just waited for her sister. No, Carys didn't want to wait on her sister. She had to go now, and surely Wren was just a little ahead of her. Hah! Wren had more woodcraft in her wee finger than Carys had in her entire body. What had she been thinking?

When she heard the first wolf howl, Carys lost all semblance of composure. Her wild shriek probably woke every roosting bird in a half mile round. She was only a little better composed when the answering howl sounded. Her knees turned to jelly when she realized how close the second was, and it had to have heard her. Scratch that, it did hear her, and it was heading this way!

Wren had promised her there weren't wolves or wolfkin in these woods. That there hadn't been for twelve years or so, but there the howls and shaking undergrowth called her a barefaced liar. How she wished she'd stayed home and waited, now. What were her belt knives against wolves or wolf kin?

She heard them first. They didn't sound anxious or hungry. They were quietly chuffing and yipping to each other in an almost conversational tone. She felt her heart plummet. That definitely sounded more like wolfkin behavior than wolf. The two wolves finally broke cover, and she could see them in the bright moonlight. One was a blonde wolf with brilliant blue eyes. The other looked dark as soot and had brown eyes. Both of them studied her with more than animal intelligence even to cocking their heads as if asking "What are you doing out here by yourself?" Carys hugged her green cape closer to her for comfort. Now what?

Yep, there were only two of them, which meant wolf kin. It didn't necessarily spell her sudden doom. The fact they were looking at her curiously meant she stood a fair chance of surviving this encounter. "You are wolfkin, aren't you?"

The blonde one bowed to her as if nodding, whilst the dark one made that chuffing sound. It sounded like he was laughing at her. The cheek! She tried again.

"I don't want trouble. I'm just a healer in training, trying to get to the Blind Herbwoman who lives the other side of these woods. Will you let me pass?" Now even the dark one considered her, then purposefully turned to the blonde one as if looking for guidance. The blonde one stood up from where he'd been sitting on his haunches, walked over to one side of Carys, and took the corner of her cape in his mouth. The dark one mirrored his example on her other side. Both wolves came up to her waist at their shoulders. Carys wasn't all that tall, but was that normal for wolves? If they were large for wolves, how tall were they as humans?

She felt the hem of her cape catch behind her knees. She could either fall over, or go where the wolf kin wanted. They traveled that way only for a little while. She noticed that, even though they were watching her, they also paid close attention to their surroundings.

The ears and eyes of both were constantly surveying the shadows for possible trouble. It was almost like the two were guarding her from danger. She began to wonder if she'd managed to stumble upon her very own guardian wolfkin. The thought made her giggle, earning her a sidelong look from the dark one, making her giggle even harder. Considering the cheek that one showed earlier, she dared a joke. "Lead on, oh brave guardian wolf knight; just don't trip me, hey?" She heard chuffing from her other side. Apparently, Blonde thought it was funny.

It wasn't long after that they both stopped suddenly. Ears on both heads started swiveling, and an odd whining came from the blonde, while the dark one started that wolfish version of laughter.

"Care to share the joke? What's happened? Why stop here?" Then she heard her cousin yelling. Carys didn't think, she just started running, because if something could make Wren yell, and then before she could finish that thought, she was head over heels tumbling in the leaf litter. She came up to a pair of laughing wolf eyes.

"What was that for?" Again, both heads cocked, and the Blonde whined. This time, Carys really listened, and she felt her own cheeks heat up. That was most definitely not the cry of a woman in trouble.

"Oh? OH! Well, since where ever we were headed is ….busy, now what?" Both of them were over by a large spreading oak. The base of it looked curved about right to provide some support for resting. As soon as she was settled against the tree, both wolves nosed their heads under her arms and onto her lap. She chuckled at that, but it did keep her warm against the chill better than her cape. Both of them threw off amazing body heat. She was almost too warm to sleep.

She laughed again, causing both wolves to look at her. "I have to be the oddest sight ever. Here I am, a half trained healer, and I have two wolfkin sleeping on my lap. No one will ever believe it." She fell asleep still chuckling.

Philippe slowly opened his eyes. Nope, it wasn't a wolf dream. They really had found a young healer out in the woods by herself. She was just as interesting to human eyes as she was to his wolf eyes. Long curling hair peeping out of her hood the color of wild honey, long dark lashes, a high bridged nose, and a generous mouth slightly smiling while she dreamed. Philippe wondered if the curls were as soft as they seemed. They were. Unfortunately, his inspection of her curls seemed to have been enough to waken her. The mouth twitched and the stubborn chin firmed.

Philippe was not one to let things happen; he preferred to be proactive. "Good morning, I hope you slept well?" Brook brown eyes flew open. Her expressions were quite comical as sleep cleared and memory returned.

"The blonde wolf?"

"Philippe, fair healer, at your service." Oh saints preserve her, but he was a looker. Bright blonde hair, lively blue eyes, a laughing mouth that promised all kinds of delightful kisses, and a strong chin and nose completed a package guaranteed to cause her troubled dreams. Even the beard and braided mustache added to his charm. Carys felt her heart flip just looking at him. Her voice only shook a little when she asked her next question.

"And this is the dark one, still asleep on my lap?"

"I'm Killiare, also at your service" Yep, he was a cheeky fellow, and as open and friendly as he seemed- the classic good looks didn't hurt none, she was sure the boy could probably get away with murder. Carys knew trouble when she was looking at it. Right now, she had double naked trouble literally in her lap.

"Alright boys, now what?"

"Now, they tell me what they're doing with my cousin pinned to a tree between them?" Oh Wren, your timing always was twenty kinds of impeccable.

"Well, we were bringing this poor lost lamb to camp, but um, Uncle seemed preoccupied at the time." Leave it to Killiare to stop a wrathful Wren in her tracks, and goodness, was even the big fellow just behind her blushing? He must be Philippe and Killiare's uncle. He was as dark as Killiare, but shared the same strong features and bright blue eyes with Philippe. No bloody wonder they were "preoccupied" last night.

"Here boys, make yourselves presentable." Linen trousers were thrown to the two, and they quickly shimmied into them. Tunics followed, a blue one for Philippe and a red one for Killiare. Carys felt her lips twitch in amusement, Wolf White and Wolf Red indeed.

"Now that the distractions are covered." Wren barely kept her lips from twitching when both boys laughed outright. "Perhaps you'd tell me what in hell made you come out here alone, instead of waiting on Nerys?"

"I had to…" Carys huffed loudly at the look Wren gave her. "Wren! It was like being at my own funeral there! The ones not giving me sympathetic looks were treating me as if I were about to consign myself to the well! Better to start the rest of my training early than endure a day more of that!"

"And you thought walking alone through the forests was a good alternative to a slight emotional discomfort in the safe village?" Wren's sarcastic tone was known to freeze hot coffee in pots. It rather warmed her heart to see Philippe start to step between them. What a protective fellow, but no. Wren was her cousin, and she'd been dealing with her bossy, but often right, britches her whole life.

"Wren, I love you dearly and will even admit chasing after you wasn't as smart as it first seemed, but I'll be damned if I'll let you assume what sitting around with a whole village pitying you or worse, feeling guilty over you, felt like." Carys gritted her teeth and her usually sweet soprano fairly growled. Wren had always been the bigger sibling sort, and still felt it necessary to boss her about, never mind Carys had bandaged more bruises and scrapes from both her and Nerys' brilliant plans than either of them would ever admit. Carys sometimes wondered if Wren had picked up healing just to keep from having to admit when another of her escapades failed.

Wren rubbed her face in aggravation, ignoring her growl. "Carys, I cannot walk you to Grandma right now. It just so turned out I have matters to attend at the moment," her face was cold and serious, but something flashed in her slanted green eyes.

The older wolfkin slightly shifted, and she threw him a look from the corner of her eyes. It felt as if a strange thread linked the two of them, a strange buzzing energy running between them. She looked at him more openly, and he nodded and pointed at the blonde boy with his eyes. "Philippe will walk you to the swamps. Killiare will go with us."

Somehow it never entered anyone's mind to argue with her. She was tiny and looked very young, but could bend the biggest, scariests blokes to her will with a slightly lifted brow. "Please, tell me you at least remember the path to Grandma's."

"Yes, Wren, I remember the path. Where do you think these two fine fellows found me?" Aggrieved patience dripped from every word, Carys was still comfortably settled against the tree. She lifted a hand to Philippe, who helped her up with all the care of a fine gentleman, causing both Killiare and the older one to raise an eyebrow at him.

Wren slightly turned her head to the woods and smiled coyly. "Eavesdropping is a sin, sister."

"So is lechery," answered a calm melodic tone, and Carys thought that if Killiare were still a wolf, his ears would perk up and his thick black tail would wag. The lopsided grin he sported, though, was definitely pure wolf. Now it was Killiare's turn to be on the receiving end of speculative looks from Philippe and their uncle, not that Killiare's riveted eyes even noticed.

However, Carys, who wound up mending emotions almost as often as flesh and bone, did. She wondered what exactly was happening here. How likely was it that Wren would find a wolfkin she was_ that _comfortable with the very night Carys would make a bid to escape the very village she'd practically sacrificed her life to protect? What odds she'd find one of the nephews _that_ distracting, or the other be _that _taken with her sister? She felt Fate tugging on their strings, and she didn't like it one bit. One too many times she'd been on the wrong end of that string. It made her want to stubbornly dig in her heels and tell Fate where it could go and what it could take with it.

"Nerys, I must speak with you." Wren pulled Nerys aside. Now Carys' curiosity was piqued. What on earth could have changed just since yesterday? What did that old wolfkin talk to her about before, after, whenever. Carys could feel her cheeks heating. Seriously, Fate, take a flying leap. Wren was not the sort to simply fall in with anyone, much less a race she blamed for taking her father too early. She'd heard for herself just how thoroughly Wren had fallen in with the older wolfkin.

She watched the various expressions play themselves out on Nerys' face: skepticism, growing horror, and finally grim acceptance. Reading Nerys was a perk only family got. Her expressions were subtle; most folk considered her calm, collected, and hard to read. Whatever was happening had to be deathly serious for even as much as Carys' got off her. Nerys' gave a curt nod to Wren, then strode over to where Carys still stood with both Philippe and Killiare, who still seemed mesmerized by Nerys. "Wren is going to need help. Specifically, mine and Killiare's. I've been assured." Her eyes cut to and narrowed in on their uncle. "That Philippe is more than capable of getting you safely to Grandma's." Her tone left no doubt there'd be hell to pay if he didn't.

"They kept me safe and out of trouble last night; I trust them. I'll be fine. Can you promise me the same?" Carys idly brushed the leaf litter off her leggings and cape, carefully hiding her own nerves. Her tone was much calmer than she really felt. Left alone,with Philippe? She just knew Fate was rolling in laughter, because it wasn't him she was worried about misbehaving at this point, but herself. And why, heavens above, was she even thinking about that when her sister and cousin might be traipsing off to unknown dangers that horrify even her devil may care kin?

"We shall have to see, won't we?" Her sister was never one to try to feed her a lie of any stripe, even if a comforting white lie would have been preferable. Nerys had already turned to start checking her pack and other equipment. Tabulating what she had, and what she might need for this further journey she hadn't been planning.

Carys' nerves demanded she do something, so she did the next best thing she could do. She thumped Killiare in the shoulder to get his attention. He shifted his eyes to her momentarily, then went back to watching Nerys' shapely bent over backside as she rummaged her packs. "Promise me you'll watch out for her?"

"With my life, if need be." Carys did a double take. What on earth? It didn't stun just her. Philippe was now gazing at his brother with real concern. Carys felt Killiare's forehead, just to make sure he wasn't about to start on a journey with an illness. She wondered if Nerys had heard him. Yep. Nerys was now thoughtfully gazing at a distant tree branch just starting to bud. Her cheeks were faintly flushed.

Carys did not know what to think. It was one thing for Fate to tinker and toy with her. Healers expect some degree of it, given the gifts they're given, but to toy with her family or these nice wolfkin she'd met? Intolerable. What are you up to, Fate, and heavens help you if you harm any of them. Though how, exactly she could make Fate pay, she didn't know, but she was sure she could come up with something. She didn't grow up with daredevils for nothing.

Despite her best efforts, time slipped away from her. Eventually, everyone was ready to break camp and go their way: her and Philippe to her Gram's, and the rest on whatever the secretive quest was. It troubled Carys that this might be the last, and as she often did, she started singing to herself to quiet her mind. Nerys, hearing the old familiar round, joined her four bars in. She did NOT expect the wolfkin. They filled in the lower registers: Killiare a fine tenor, Philippe and Thorin baritones. Yet it seemed fitting. The song joining them just as Fate seemed to be, their voices mingling to create a lovely thing, even as they were preparing to part company.

"Roads, lead me home, Roads, lead me home." As the final bars finished all voices together, Carys looked up to see Nerys' eyes just as suspiciously shiny as hers. Carys could stand it no longer. "Take as much care as you can, I love you." Nerys only nodded, not trusting her voice. Carys moved on to Wren, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. Stay safe, please?"

Wren's own "I love you, too. Safe travels" was softly spoken, meant only for her ears. Carys picked up her pack and took Philippe's offered arm as they started their journey together. She didn't dare look back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Written by __Wynni_

CARYS/PHILIPPE

The camp was now a half day behind them, and Carys was still quiet as a mouse. Philippe kept careful watch, idly fingering one of the long knives that rode comfortably at his side. She'd often catch him humming, quirking a smile despite herself. Some of them were easy to recognize, others puzzled her, having never heard anything like them. Curiosity finally got the better of her.

"That tune, what is it?" Philippe cocked his head at her, as if trying to remember what it was he'd been humming. Carys hummed it back at him, watching his eyes light up.

"Just an old cradle song. One our mum would sing to help us sleep. It's a longtime favorite." He smiled down at her. From the crinkles at the corner of his eyes to the winking dimples just clear of his beard, she liked the way his whole face lit up. It was one reason she felt so comfortable in his presence, despite his height. He wasn't as tall as his uncle. Carys thought few men or wolfkin could be, but he was plenty tall to her. Carys was five foot if she were an inch, and she could just barely stare him straight in the chest.

"It's pretty. Would you share the words?"

"Oh now, that, well, for a grown man to sing those, 'tis a bit embarrassing now."

"I'll share one of mine, if you share yours."

"I somehow don't think it'd be as embarrassing for a pretty lass to sing a cradle song as a grown man." The lop sided mischievous grin was playing havoc with Carys' equilibrium. In fact, she was so busy watching his grin, she stumbled over a thick branch. Quick arms caught her up before she could utterly disgrace herself.

"You should really watch where you point that thing, It's dangerous."

"Whatever for, when it puts you right where I want you?" Philippe's low rumbly words had Carys' cheeks approaching combustion levels, and she had to put some space between herself and the impossible wolfkin….mercy did he smell good: forest loam, fresh fern, and a personal musk that was causing serious consternation in nether regions best left unmentioned. Her heart was fair beating out of her chest by this point. She pushed away so fast she wound up back against a tree, trying to catch her breath.

"That's enough of that, thank you! " Carys was trying for a no nonsense tone, but was fairly certain the treble gave it away. Philippe was studying her, almost as if he couldn't quite believe something, and shook his head in a very wolfish manner, as if trying to clear it.

Carys was back at his side almost instantly, checking his temperature and pulse. He felt even warmer than usual, and his heartbeat raced madly against her palm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He gave her a wistful grin. "Lack of sleep. This full moon's our First Change. " Carys winced in sympathy. Growing up in a family of Hunters meant she knew a lot about wolfkin. "Know thy enemy" was a motto her family lived and died by.

"Well, we could rest during the day, and you can escort me as you and your brother did last night? Would that help matters?"

"And who would stand watch during the day? Once I nod off, not much would wake me."

"I'm a healer, I'd find a way." Carys' studied the stubborn tilt of her wolfkin's head, and huffed at him. "There's a shallow cave not half a league that way our family's often used for camping. Oft used to the point we leave an equipment cache there for just in case. Would that suffice? We can even build up a fire at the entrance to ward off most animals." It was then Carys' turn to catch Philippe. He was obviously worse off than he'd be letting on, the stinker. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Carys studied the zonked out Philippe. He really was a deep sleeper, or just that drained from the changes. She mentally calculated how many more he'd be through. Tonight and one other. It was lucky for them then, she'd started her journey as early as she had. Giving Philippe time would not put her late on her apprenticeship to Gram. Carys shook her head. She was accomplishing nothing watching Philippe sleep except giving herself a case of nerves. She decided to inspect the cache. Digging it out, she found her old bow and quiver set. She smiled at it.

It had been a few years since she'd needed it. She put it up when she started her herbal studies. Hunting plants required a very different technique than hunting rabbits or squirrels. She idly wondered if she still had her aim. She strung the bow, and checked the arrows. The fletchings were still good, the shafts unwarped. The bow and string seemed in excellent condition, too. She wondered who'd packed it back so carefully for her. It was almost as if someone knew she'd be needing it. She rolled her eyes, because it almost seemed she could hear Fate snickering over her shoulder.

She took the bow and quiver to the cave's mouth. She thought the old stump about a hundred paces away would do, and took careful aim. The first arrow landed in the dirt just before it. The second whizzed off into the underbrush just over it. The third and forth arrows found center. She whooped loudly in delight, and quickly turned to see if she disturbed Philippe. No, he was still asleep. She quietly celebrated with a little victory dance, and started making packs up again for the evening's travel, including her recovered bow and arrows and a few other things from the cache.

Everything was finally set to her standards: fire to ward off animals, a tripwire that would warn if anything passed the fire, and packs ready for evening travel. Carys felt a yawn crack her jaws. Only thing left was for her to get some sleep. It wouldn't do for her to be too tired to travel in the evening, that would defeat the whole purpose. She took a bedroll from the cache, shook it out, laid down next to Philippe's comatose form, and slept.

Philippe slowly came back to himself. He didn't recall ever sleeping that soundly before. Uncle hadn't been kidding when he'd warned them about the exhaustion. He scanned his surroundings. This must have been the cave Carys had mentioned. She wasn't sleeping far from him. In fact, she was rather nicely cuddled up next to him. Her constant contact with something was part of what had awakened him. He shifted a little to ease the distress. Her curls were everywhere, like soft clinging, curling vines. Again, he couldn't resist playing with them. This time, she simply murmured, smiled, and snuggled closer. Feelings threatened to swamp him, and he had to close his eyes a moment to bring them back in line.

He refused to give in to anything, including his own nature. He would decide his fate, naught else. Except, he realized that there was one thing he couldn't control: he'd found his Half. It was humorous watching his Uncle find his mate, worrisome when it seemed Recognition had struck his brother, but himself? It scared him. It scared him that some other person could hold that much power over him, and he was helpless against it. She could break him to pieces or make him ecstatic.

So much power in those deft healer's hands. He took one up, smiling at it. They were green stained, and the nails cut short for practicality. Her hands were almost square: short fingered, and with a wide palm comparatively. He knew a healer's work wasn't easy, yet they were still soft and smooth. He wondered at that. He caressed the center of her palm with his thumb.

That's how Carys woke: looking up into thoughtful blue eyes, a serious look on the usually impish face, and her palm being caressed to a fair thee well. "Um? What's wrong?"

"Do you know, you've left me a mystery. Why were the villagers treating you so strangely? Going to study herbalism shouldn't warrant such a reaction." Sidestepping things he didn't want to talk about had become an artform. It really was the only way to deal with a younger sibling sometimes.

"I wondered when I'd have to have this discussion." All her good feelings from her fast fading dream were long gone. She did seem to remember it involved laughing blue eyes and soft sweet kisses. "It's not my apprenticeship to Gram, but the reason for it: I was the Crooked Dwarf's price for banishing the village plague that struck oh, several years ago now. I was just a wee girl then, and nobody could think how else to stop it. It even had Gram stumped. So, for the price of only seven years of my life, he'd save the entire village from death. What a steal, right?" She shuddered and huddled into herself, hugging her knees close.

One wolfish growl later and she was pulled tightly against a massive, overly warm chest. "I've not long before the change, but we _will_ finish this talk later. For now, just remember, you won't be facing that Crooked Dwarf of yours alone. Not if I can help it. Please?" He had shifted her so he could turn her face to meet his earnest blue eyes. He was already breaking out in a sweat, his time fast approaching.

"Philippe, is everything alright? You don't look well." A touch softer than butterfly kisses flitted across his brow and cupped his cheek, keeping eye contact between them now that the conversation had turned. She seemingly wasn't the only one with subjects she wanted to avoid.

"I don't like the change. It isn't easy on me." He rubbed against her hand. Her cool skin felt heavenly right now.

"What can I do? I want to help."

"A kiss for luck?" Between Recognition clawing at him and the coming change, he couldn't stop himself from asking at least that much.

"That would help with the change, would it?" He winced at her dry, teasing tone. He thought to play it off, working up a lopsided grin for her despite his thumping heart and twitching muscles.

"Well, it'd make me feel better." He almost believed his light cajolery himself.

Philippe had been sending mixed signals since she met him. There was a chance that all the oddities were simply First Change symptoms, she admitted to herself. A lot of the outward symptoms of First Change and Recognition were nigh indistinguishable. There was a chance it might be Recognition, given that both his uncle and his brother were smitten.

It seemed a small, unlikely chance to Carys' mind; she'd never been given a second glance before. She wasn't dashing, petite, and fiery like Wren. She wasn't collected, calm, and ladylike like Nerys. She was round little Carys, everyone's friend and confidant. She was just good ol' Carys, as common and comfortable as granny's quilt.

"Mm hmm, it would, would it?" She could hear Fate laughing over her shoulder again, but by now, she didn't care. She'd been breathing the same air from his lungs for the past half minute, already half drunk from the smell and feel of him. She closed her eyes and dove in.

Philippe was drowning in heaven and didn't care. The minute she opened her mouth for him his tongue was dancing with hers. She tasted glorious: woodsmoke, honeyed journeycake, and he'd swear on his soul she tasted of sunshine too. He could have happily spent the rest of his life right there, but his change was on him, and he broke free with a frustrated growl.

"Carys," Her name almost sounded like a prayer on his lips. "The change, now." Philippe tottered outside. She heard a bellow of sheer agony that slowly mutated into a howl.


	6. Chapter 6

_Written by RagdollPrincess_

NERYS/KILLIARE

Nerys sat on the log by the fire, finishing her meal. She felt tense and anxious and was trying to ignore it. She stared blankly into the fire as Wren and Darius talked quietly, their words muffled. Nerys knew they were talking about the Crooked Dwarf and what was to be done for Killiare and Carys, who were both to be tied to him for seven years.

They were being quiet so that Killiare did not hear them, his being, in her opinion, oddly ignorant and uninterested in the reason he'd been taken on this journey by his uncle and brother. She wondered why he thought they were here in the forest, or why he didn't seem surprised that these women had suddenly joined in with his family on their journey. He seemed a bit passive, almost dimwitted, going along with whatever his uncle and brother decided without question, but she would have to talk to him in order to find out his thoughts on the situation, and she simply could not bring herself to do that.

Nerys did not feel well. She felt short of breath and heavy behind her eyes, the palms of her hands tense, making her clench them repeatedly. She suspected what her reaction to Killiare meant, but she was unsure, not seeing any sign of recognition of her as his half in him. She wasn't sure what she would do if she did.

Unlike her flame haired cousin, Nerys tended to be cautious, lacking in flamboyance. Wren had a certain flair to her, a confident impulsivity that never led her astray, whereas Nerys preferred to remain detached and calm. Carys called her avoidant, which would annoy Nerys if it had come from Wren, but from Carys seemed only to be a playful observation. Nerys was anything but calm now, and she kept her distance to gather her thoughts.

When she'd come upon her cousin and sister in the clearing with three men who were clearly Wolfkin, she'd had the urge to turn and walk back to the village. She'd been tracking her sister, who she hadn't been aware had set out on her own from the village for thee grandmother's until Carys had already had a good head start.

Nerys had lingered in the trees, never one to rush into things, and had immediately seen the dark haired young man. She's had to take a moment to calm herself, panicking at first at her reaction to him. She felt irresistibly drawn to him, as though she'd come here for the sole purpose of meeting him.

She'd taken deep breaths to calm herself, not liking being distracted by any emotional reaction, and had made sense of the situation. She's been surprised when she'd realized Wren had bedded the older man because Wren typically didn't keep her conquests around long enough for Nerys or Carys to meet them. Wren was like her namesake to her lovers, here one moment gone the next, having taken flight on the wind in the blink of an eye.

Nerys had turned her attention to her sister and was further alarmed by what she saw there. Her beautiful adorably insightful and kind younger sister seemed to have bewitched the third man in the clearing. Nerys wasn't sure how she knew. She just sensed a possessiveness to him, something in his stance that signaled that he recognized Carys as his half.

Nerys felt alarm begin to wail in her ears. This was no ordinary meeting of travelers, and Nerys was terrified that for some reason it was not chance that she would come upon her sister in the company of her cousin, who was supposed to be out hunting, in the company of these men. Fate had a plan afoot. And that was when Wren had called her out of the trees.

Nerys glanced at Killiare now by the fire. She'd avoided him since that time, not sure what to say or do. She wasn't one to speak to others without necessity, and she hadn't known how to respond to his advances towards her.

He had such dynamic features. When he was laughing, his black eyes crinkled and narrowed as he grinned. But he just as often appeared fierce, dark, and dangerous. Now he appeared, calm, serious, and guarded, lost deeply in thought. He held his bow in his hand, absently plucking the string, just as she held a knife in hers, flipping it lazily from end to end.

Killiare glanced towards the western sky where the setting sun was about to descend completely. He rose to his feet and glanced at his uncle who nodded before Killiare strode into the wood without a word, the trees closing behind his back and obscuring him from vision as Nerys' eyes followed him. This would be his fourth and final night shifting. The fourth shift was supposed to be the most animalistic, the most consuming.

Darius followed and retrieved Killiare's clothing from the wood before entwining himself again with Wren. Nerys ignored them, and it wasn't long before they drifted off into the trees themselves. They'd remained by the fire for his shift the previous night but said they were unconcerned about this evening, despite Nerys' misgivings.

She sat staring into the fire, listening to the sounds around her. Wren and Darius must have gone a long distance. Wren's loud cries sounded far away.

She knew Killiare was hunting. She could hear him not far off from time to time, and she was scared and cautious. He was a newly turned Wolfkin and she doubted how possible it was for him to control his urge to kill humans. He seemed to like being Wolfkin quite a bit, seeming almost excited at the prospect of shifting this evening. She could be in grave danger if he gave into his impulses. Considering how attached she has become to him, she wasn't sure how she'd react if she had to defend herself.

She started when she looked up and saw he was suddenly standing in the clearing. She didn't even hear him approach. He was covered in blood from whatever he had killed and feasted on.

He stalked towards her slowly while her heart hammered in alarm. He stood before her and gazed into her eyes. He was huge, his eyes nearly level with hers. She was tall compared to her sister and cousin, and yet he physically dominated her. He could crush her with his powerful jaws, and she would never survive if he turned his claws on her. She held her breath as he stood before her, seeming to consider her carefully.

Then suddenly he turned away and curled by the fire as he carefully bathed himself, cleaning all of the blood from his fur. She exhaled a sigh before slowly settling on the log again, watching him bathe out of the corner of her eye. It was lovely to watch him, and her stomach fluttered as he carefully cleaned his paws before rubbing his wet paws over his face, closing his eyes each time his paw swept over the short fur there.

Once he was clean, he bounded up, suddenly energetic and almost gleeful. He glanced at her and pranced away playfully. At first she was surprised and confused but then she couldn't help laughing at how silly this lethal creature looked, tumbling like a puppy. This behaviour continued for several minutes, and at times he would lope joyously around the clearing. At one point he even did a quick turn trying to chase his tail, then bounded towards her and bent low on his front paws, his rear in the air as he panted happily. She grinned at him, waiting to see what he'd do next.

He calmed suddenly and came to stand before her as he rose up on his hind legs, resting his paws on her shoulders and draping himself over her in a hug as he nuzzled her hair and ear. She stiffened at this action, her heart hammering in fear but also at the nearness of him. She wasn't sure how to react and wondered if she was in danger, thinking that she had a blade stashed in her trousers that would surely penetrate his heart if needed. Then some a memory surfaced from her training with Wren, and she realized he was engaging in Wolfkin courting behaviour.

Her heart froze. She finally had the answer to her question about if he recognized his mate in her, but she wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to do, although she knew what she desired. It didn't matter though because he pushed down on his paws, and she understood that she was expected to sit.

He lowered himself before her, settling on his belly, and brought his nose to her fingers as he began to clean her, licking any remnants from supper away. She giggled and blushed, but did not pull away. After a moment she began to gently stroke his muzzle, delicately playing with the short black whiskers there while she watched this beautiful creature groom her carefully as though she belonged to him. She laughed as he then brought his muzzle to her face, cleaning it thoroughly, before continuing with her hair. She sighed and resigned herself to the feeling, wanting only to be close to him, and glad they did not need to speak as he was in wolf form.

She stifled a yawn and he moved, curling his gigantic body around hers. She understood what she was to do as she leant into his broad side, feeling his hard ribs beneath his stiff fur. She threaded her hands into his fur, the outer hairs stiff, covering a downy under layer that was still thick for the cold spring. He draped a paw over her possessively, and she felt cradled by the heavy weight, warm and comfortable. It was in this position that she fell asleep, feeling his steady breath beneath his ribs.

When she woke in the morning, he was completely naked and they were tangled together. She glanced around alarmed at his bare state in the cold air. Finally, she removed her cloak and draped it over him, avoiding looking at his body. He lay sleeping while she watched him, and she began to shiver as she sat without her cloak, unwilling to be near him in his naked human form.

Wren and Darius were nowhere to be seen but she was sure they'd appear soon. She wasn't concerned about either of them as they themselves were the most dangerous things in the forest. She began to shiver, and biting her lip she finally lifted the edge of the cloak and slid beneath it, curling her back into his chest and wrapping her legs over his bent knees. His body was scorching hot like a furnace, and she wondered if it was part of being Wolfkin. She felt warmed immediately and began to doze again.

She woke sometime later feeling wonderfully warm like she was in a cocoon that she had no desire to leave. She felt a heavy weight over her ribs and realized there was an arm draped over her. She stiffened, not sure what to do.

She heard a throat clear and glanced up to see Wren and Darius standing not too far away. Lifting her head, her wide eyes met Wren's, who smirked at her and shook her head

"Dear cousin, you appear to have forgotten everything I taught you. We came upon you completely unawares."

Wren's voice appeared to wake Kili as he began to stir. Nerys felt something hard against her back and gasped, realizing what it must be. She scrambled out from under the cloak, her face burning, as his eyes fluttered open. He looked shocked for a moment before colouring similarly, drawing the cloak tightly around him as he sat up, before he saw Wren and Darius watching them in amusement.

Killiare stared at them for a moment before clearing his voice carefully.

"Good morning, uncle."

"Good morning, Killiare. Would you care for your clothing?"

Killiare coloured even more brilliantly, and Nerys quickly busied herself getting a fire started.

"If you would be so kind," he murmured.

Darius tossed Killiare's clothing to him in a heap, and Killiare struggled to don his trousers beneath the cloak. Having covered himself sufficiently, he stood, less concerned about his bare chest. Nerys felt his gaze on her and did her best not to look at him as she attempted to calm her trembling hands to start a fire. After several unsuccessful attempts she glanced at Wren.

"You could help, if you felt so inclined."

"I don't," smiled Wren as she sat on a nearby log, stretching her legs lazily before her, "but thank you for the offer. It's much more enjoyable watching you do it."

In irritation, Nerys stood suddenly, abandoning her task. She grabbed her bow and strode into the woods without a word, ignoring the sniggers behind her as she went, intending to find game to have for breakfast as not everyone had feasted the night before.

The next night Darius and Wren retreated into the woods long before sunset. They had no need to wait as Killiare was not going to shift that night. Killiare and Nerys found themselves sitting by the fire again in silence. Finally Killiare spoke.

"What training have you had with a blade?"

She looked at him in surprise and grinned. This was a topic they could discuss that did not lead to awkward discomfort or draw attention to the gnawing tension growing between them. She knew where things were going to eventually lead, but she had no idea how to bridge the gap between them. Discussion and romance was not her arena of choice.

"A great deal. It is my preferred weapon. You?"

"Some. I'm not as skilled as Fili. I prefer a bow. But it is a close second for me."

She smiled at him. They settled into silence again. The suddenly she looked up at him. "Do you want to spar?"

He grinned at her and jumped up as though he wanted nothing more.

They sparred for the better part of an hour, only stopping when it became too dark for them to see safely, although they spoke about their strategies for fighting in the darkness, their use of sound to track their prey. Killiare spoke of his ability to use his opponent's scent to his advantage, talking about how he could even smell fear, especially when he was about the win the fight. They were well matched, and although she was clearly a superior fighter with a blade, he was clearly well trained. They talked at length about techniques and injuries. As they walked back to the campfire laughing, and Killiare flung his arm comfortably around Nerys' shoulders. He told her a story about a time when he and Phillippe attacked Darius and Killiare somehow accidentally split his own lip.

They fell into comfortable silence as they stopped before the fire, the embers dying low. She turned to him to say she was going to gather wood to build up the fire and paused when she saw he was gazing at her. She gazed back at him, for the first time feeling no need to pull away. Suddenly rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, no longer feeling uncomfortable with her attraction to him.

She heard him sigh as she kissed him, and he returned the kiss carefully. Pulling away she gazed up at him as he grinned at her.

"Thank you," he said.

"What for?"

"I would never have gotten around to that." He smiled as she gazed at him and dipped his head to kiss her once more, chastely, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

He pulled away again, and she laughed although she wasn't sure why. He laughed with her.

"Well, how about that fire?" she asked.

He nodded and bent to stoke the embers while she jogged to the trees to gather kindling.

She didn't hesitate to curl into him as they settled by the fire for sleep. As she settled, she could hear Wren in the distance. It sounded like she and Darius had started on another round.

She felt as comfortable and warm as she had the night before when she was curled into him, both covered with her heavy grey cloak, his brown one below them protecting them from the cold. She was just drifting off to sleep when his voice drew her back to waking.

"I have something to discuss with you," he murmured.

She felt suddenly awake and turned under the cloak to face him. She immediately noticed how broad his shoulders were, that lying beside him like this he towered over her much narrower frame.

"What?" she asked, not missing the feeling of her belly and chest pressed against his as he draped his arm over her, pulling her to him snugly with her head lying on his arm stretched below her.

She noticed she fit into him perfectly, her head tucking nicely below his chin. He really was quite tall.

"Uncle and Phillippe think I don't know," he began, and then paused. Her breath hitched as she realized she already knew what he was going to say. "And I know that you already know, as well." He stared at her, and she didn't even bother to pretend his words weren't true.

"The Crooked Dwarf," she answered.

He nodded and gazed past her shoulder, lost in thought. "I was just a baby when it happened. I only found out because I overheard them talking one day. They must think me a halfwit for me to seem to be completely unawares my entire life of the agreement, or of their plan to get me out of it." He shrugged amiably. "But no matter, they mean well." He smiled at her for a moment before beginning again. "As you know, Darius and Phillippe want to offer themselves in place of me."

Nerys was indeed already aware of this plan. "Killiare," she finally said. "The Crooked Dwarf is the same imp who my sister will be bonded to for seven years. She's contracted to go to him in three months. It was an exchange made so that the imp would save our village from the plague."

Killiare nodded slowly. "I'd been wondering," he said. "I thought there had to be some sort of a reason why you would agree to join us. Even with your cousin's mating with my uncle, there was no reason why either of you had to come on this journey. But I won't let that happen."

"What do you mean you won't let that happen?"

"I'm going to somehow find a way to keep Darius from getting to the imp. I'll go instead. And I'm going to …" Killiare glanced away for a moment. "I'm going to make him change his mind. About both of us."

"And if he doesn't?" Nerys asked pointedly. She noticed Killiare was avoiding eye contact with her. She wondered if he was planning to kill the imp or just give into the contract.

"I had wondered about Carys, and I was thinking if the imp cannot be reasoned with that I'll offer myself for fourteen years instead, for both hers and my contracts," he said.

"Whoa," Nerys said. "Not so fast. You can't just offer yourself like that." She swallowed. "We need to talk about this, Killiare." She couldn't help noticing how happy he looked at her words. It was the first time she'd verbally acknowledged their connection, despite her kiss, despite their sleeping tangled together the way they were.

"What would you suggest?" he asked, his arm tightening around her waist.

She swallowed. "If the imp cannot be reasoned with, we kill him. If he cannot be killed..." she paused, "then I will take Carys' place." She glanced at him, his face unreadable. "Our families will be safe, and we ... will be together."

He didn't speak. For a moment he only stared at her, then dropped his head to kiss her softly again, rubbing his nose against hers in a gesture that reminded her of his nuzzling her face in wolf form the night before.

"Alright," he finally said. "So the plan is to first reason, then try to kill, and then to trade if worst comes to worst. ls that normally the order you do things in?"

She couldn't help laughing. "Usually it's a bit hard to trade if the killing has been done, but this is a powerful imp, and I'm not deluded that we are likely able to overpower him."

Killiare nodded. "But first we have to get Darius and Wren out of the way. Phillippe is gone now, luckily, but Darius is too stubborn, so I have to find a way to keep him … preoccupied." He grinned at Nerys, and her heart skipped a beat. Even in this moment, she couldn't help loving his playful mischievous nature.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Unlike Killiare, she was familiar with the forest and the path they were talking. "I think I have an idea," she said. "I believe we require a cellar, with a good strong door. And I know of just the place to find such a thing."


	7. Chapter 7

_Written by __kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

She was lying in his arms, her taut cool body stretched along his, a slender leg wrapped around his thigh.

"I am not surprised the imp chose Killiare for his price, he is wonderful," her tone was thoughtful, and he chuckled.

"After what has just happened, you are thinking about my nephew?" He feigned shock, and she slightly rose and grabbed his nose between her curled index finger and the thumb.

"I am not a man, I'm capable of thinking about several things at the same time." He shook his head, and she let him go. He quickly shifted and caught the little fingers in his mouth. She didn't jerk them back. "I wonder how we even manage to hunt you lot. You are so much quicker..." He released her digits, and holding her hand in his he kissed the inner side of her wrist.

"Trust a huntress to appreciate the speed with which I could potentially kill her."

"You can't, I am your mate." Her tone was absent-minded, and he looked at her attentively. That was their third night, and he was yet again chasing off the unpleasant thought that he didn't know anything about the woman who would readily submit her body to him, clearly experienced and sensual, was rushing in the middle of his fight to protect his kin, but hardly spoke to him during the day. He chuckled again, this time joylessly. Such thoughts in his opinion were reserved to enamoured lasses, and here he was staring at the unreadable freckled face.

"Where do you live?" She asked suddenly, and her odd slanted eye, irises amber, of ever changing colour, focused on him.

"The large village to the North, near the Running River."

"The one with three red mills on a Southern hill?" He nodded. "I've had a job there once, many years ago. A bog snake monster. It almost bit off my arm, I was a mess. Still have the scars," she rubbed her palm over the shoulder. He had noticed the scars, as well as about a hundred others. He had plenty of his own, but on her pale skin they looked shocking to him. He intertwined his fingers with her. "I was sixteen, just after the Big Hunt." She put her head back on his chest and placed their intertwined hands over his heart. They were naked, under his cloak, but she didn't seem cold.

"And where do you live? And do your cousins…?" He started asking, when she sharply sat up, the cloak slid off her upper torso, and she glared into his eyes.

"I can't stop hunting. Not even now. I'm the oldest in the clan, and again, what would I do? Cook you dinners and raise babies? I'd be a horrible mother." She almost yelled all that into his face, and he stared at her.

"I wouldn't ask you to give up hunting, it's your vocation. And you do have a choice..."

"Oh don't give me your whiny wolf talk," she interrupted him in irritation, and for the first time since she had stepped out of the woods to his fire, he saw her composure slip. Her cheeks were burning, and she grabbed handfuls of her mad orange curls in an uncharacteristic emotional gesture. "I don't have any more choice than you do. Do you think humans do not get attached once and for life? It's all the tales wolves tell to feel sorry for themselves!" Her voice was venomous, and he felt his jaw slack. She was insulting his kind while apparently professing her feelings to him. "I might not have my head full of intrusive pictures of future children and enthusiastic shagging, but I am no less affected by all this!"

"You can leave..."

"Don't be dim. After I slept with you?!"

"None of us was a virgin, unless you are just that good the first time around." She looked at him, and he literally saw her temper rising.

"You know what..." She choked on her words and then, as if he could be more astonished by what was happening, she swore intricately and dirtily. And then she ground her teeth and jumped at her feet. She grabbed her tunic from the ground, and when she was already pulling on her bloomers he suddenly realised she was leaving. The deep rooted in his wolf nature panic rose, his body jolted, and he heard his own terrified voice.

"Wren, what are you doing?!"

"I'm going for a walk, I need to cool down."

"Wren, it's night, and we are in the middle of the woods..."

"I can manage," she growled back, picked up her scabbard from the ground, and walked into the woods quickly. She moved absolutely silently, as if gliding through the trees, he had never seen anything like that. But then again, wolfkin hardly spent a lot of time around hunters. He fell back on the ground, his cloak around his lower half, and groaned. He decided that from now on they wouldn't talk at all. Nothing good ever came from talking.

He spent an hour brooding, cursing her stubbornness and wondering what kind of blithering idiot was the first to tell wolves that there was some divine logic in the choice of mate for each of them. He then decided to get up and go back to the camp. It was a pleasant thought. While Killiare would be running around enjoying his shift, Wren's cousin Nerys would be there. He liked the girl. She was quiet, calm, and to his sharp wolf eyes her fluid confident movement were endlessly pleasant. Humans tended to seem clumsy, their smells intrusive, voices unnecessary loud. She was like warm river water in Summer. He chuckled at his own poetic comparison. Perhaps there was something wrong with his head. He knew he was just riding the wave from Recognition, but to think of it was to think of Wren, and he refused. He'd get up and go talk to the quiet huntress. They might not talk at all, just sit together by the fire.

His ears caught a subtle rustle of leaves to his right, and he slightly turned his head. Wren stepped out of the woods, and he immediately realised she was cold. He could almost feel how cold her nose and fingers were. She left her cloak and gloves on the ground. She stopped a few steps away from him, her face as unreadable as always, and he met her eyes. Something changed in them, and she quickly moved to him. He lifted the corner of the cloak, she shook off her boots and threw her sword over the heap of their clothes. She slid under the cloak and pressed into him.

"I liked you from the moment I saw you," she murmured into his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her. "And then I understood you were Wolfkin, and it hurt. You are not a boy, which meant you'd have a mate, and I wouldn't get even one night." He shortly wondered how one could be mated to a woman and understand so little about her. He saw all that had happened in a completely different light. Lots was starting to make more sense. She lifted her head and gave him another glare under frowned brows. He thought she looked adorable. "I do cook, I am a very good cook, mind you. And whatever you think, I do want to cook for you." His brows jumped up in amusement. "Oh shut up," she blushed more and hid her face into his neck again. "I am having a girly moment of weakness here. I'm entitled. I have never been in love before." He pushed his fingers into her mane and scratched the back of her head lovingly. He felt very happy. He especially enjoyed her grumpy irritated tone. "But I am afraid of having children… I'll be a horrible mother..." He twisted a handful of her curls around his hand and pulled, making her lift her face and look into his eyes.

"You are already a mother to your cousins. And the whole clan after your father's death, as I understand."

"And look at my successes," her tone was venomous. "One of my cousins is trodding to finish her training only to be sold into slavery to the Crooked Dwarf! Another one is sitting there, probably agonising over the fact that your nephew is going to go through Recognition any moment, and then she'll have an enamoured wolf on her arms. She is so uncomfortable right now that it makes me squirm..."

"Killare is a good boy," he smiled to her, "he'll be good for her."

"Them I'm not worried that much about. I can see what he is like. And Nerys… Let's say, she is the smartest of us all. She needs to learn to trust her intuition a bit more, and then there will be no stopping her." She smiled as well, a fierce love for her cousin reflected on her face, "Your nephew doesn't stand a chance." He pulled her down, and their lips met. He didn't stand any chance either. She sighed into his kiss, and then moved away. "Carys on the other hand, I am still not sure about letting her go with your other nephew. I mean with the whole Recognition looming, and his first shifts, he is obviously one of those who will have trouble with the shifts..." His jaw slacked.

"What? Philippe and Carys?" He couldn't believe it, he didn't feel anything. She studied his expression and started laughing.

"Didn't catch that, did you? And I wondered why you seemed so relaxed about it."

"Philippe and Carys?!"

"Of course," she smiled softly. "As absurd as it seems. Gods are having a lot of fun these days. Three wolves, three sisters. I think Fate is getting lazy..." He still couldn't school his face into a more dignified expression. She laughed louder. "I find your naivety rather endearing," she pecked his lips, and he huffed air out in slight irritation. "I know you wolves think it's something that happens to _you_, and you are so concentrated on the fact that you are losing your freedom," she drew the words sarcastically, "But it all comes down to the woman after all. Carys is pure, slightly naive, she doesn't understand her own worth. She can't imagine someone would be interested in her, while half of the village boys were losing their sleep over her, while the other half were a bit bolder. Nerys and I saw no peace throwing yet another suitor out of our attic. They all somehow thought it would be romantic to show up in the middle of the night with a bunch of flowers stolen from the smith's flowerbed. So she is probably just walking ahead right now, worried about us instead of herself. I bet Philippe is in pain right now, he is feeling it coming but to go through Recognition he needs her to actually participate in it. She is in for a surprise!" She giggled, and he stared at her wide eyed. "And Nerys… She seems calm and detached, but she is a passionate soul. Of course her and Killiare understood everything right away. Whether they will actually get to it any time soon is another question. He doesn't seem like a lecher, she is cautious, they will walk around each other for weeks probably."

"While you just straddled me if memory serves me right..." He smiled to her, and she licked her lips.

"Well, how could I not?" Her purring, suggestive tone reminded him that they were alone, half naked, or fully naked in his case, under a cloak, on a comfortable soft patch of last year's leaves, and they had just pretty much solved all his vexations with his bond. He grabbed her under her arms and lifted her above him. She hanged over him, relaxed and warm, and he felt her little toes playfully tickle his legs. She was flushed, smiling openly, her eyes brilliant and loving. He let her go sharply, and she fell on him with an "oomph."

She rose on her straight arms, purposefully pressing her pelvis into his already straining length, and murmured, "Brute. Boorish, manhandling animal." Somehow it sounded like compliments, and he guffaws.

She suddenly slid off his body and lay on her side near him on the cloak. She stretched her arm behind her, picked up his hand and pulled, making him spoon her. His nose ended up buried in her curls, and he asked confused, "Are we going to sleep?"

"Would you like to?" Her tone was mischievous, and she rubbed her round buttocks up and down his member. He nipped her ear, pulled his hand out of her grip and grabbed the waist of her breeches and bloomers at the same time. He pushed them down, while sliding his lips onto the tender patch of skin behind her ear. The fresh fragrance of her skin, mixed with her lilac perfume, was stronger there, and he licked the vulnerable neck. And then slightly rolling over her, he placed a greedy open mouthed kiss on the corner of her jaw. His tip pressed into her already wet folds, and he growled. She bent her neck suddenly, giving him access to the helpless throat, and the beast in him recognised it as a submissive gesture. He felt his jaws clench. He had never before felt so much of the animal while in a fully human form, and slight panic rose at the back of his mind. He started moving away from her, but her nails dug into his palm.

"Don't..." Her voice was raspy, and she arched her back, pressing her pelvis into him. She still wasn't looking at him, he could see the corners of her lips tense and felt all her body strained and trembling. The long lashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes. His head swam, and he pushed into her forcefully. She was silent, which by now he thought impossible. Her previous cries and moans were probably heard across the woods all the way to the West border. He thrusted twice, his eyes fixed on the side of her face. She was frowning slightly, but her lips finally relaxed, opened, and to his own shock he felt strange hunger rising.

Purely Wolkin couples were exceptionally rare, but when he was young he spent three years with a pack in the North. Their alphas were both wolves, and in spring they would mate in their wolf form. He remembered seeing through his wolf eyes the woman's closed eyes, submissively arched neck, tense body.

He rolled Wren under him, planted his elbows on the sides of her, and pressed his mouth onto the pale skin on the side of her neck over her pulse. It wasn't a kiss anymore, but he was still controlling himself enough not to sink his teeth into her. For the first time since the first night she wasn't taking charge, he didn't feel like she was hiding laughter, something he didn't feel offended by but couldn't help but notice. Right now she was soft, pliable, completely and utterly submissive. Were he to mark her now, with a deep angry bruise on her skin, clasp his hand over her throat, and follow his other vague urges the beast in him was craving, he was certain she'd stay silent and passive.

And then he saw her delicate nose with bright orange freckles, her jaw line and the gentle curve of her upper lip that he found so charming, and the animal stepped back momentarily. It was her, his Wren, a snarky huntress, who had cold hands and tender lips, who laughed at his silly jokes last night at the fire and who closed her eyes when he would lean into a kiss. And then in a sudden piercing silence he heard her inhaling softly, and she opened her eyes. She shifted, twisted her neck, and he met her lips at the same time she moved into a kiss. It was tender and loving, and he felt the ringing in his ears he wasn't aware of subside.

"Love you..." She murmured, and for the first time in his life the beast and the man in him found their concordance. He closed his eyes in a bliss of this unity he didn't know he'd been craving since the night of his shift. He kissed her again, and then placed a row of feather like, ticklish kisses on her cheek, jaw, and finally ear. She giggled, and he understood they would be fine from now on.

Her delicious round bum jumped up, and he saw the corner of her lips curl up, "Have you fallen asleep, wolf?" He guffawed and nipped her small burning ear.

"Be quiet, woman." She snorted and then moaned theatrically. Her buttocks pushed into him, and he pinned her to the ground.

"Oh Darius, oh yes, oh please!" She loudly whined in an unnaturally breathy voice, making funny faces he could see a half of, and hardly controlling laughter.

"Oh you little..." He couldn't suppress laughter himself, and then he lifted his pelvis, sliding out of her almost fully, and then slammed his hips down and into her. She choked on her laughter and moaned much more sincerely.

"Brute..." She rasped, but it still sounded like a compliment. He pressed a lingering kiss on her neck and swirled his tongue on her skin, salty from previous exertions. "Insensitive animal..." He licked her ear, and she purred.

She moved first, gently rocking her backside, and he joined her, their rhythm quickening, tension rising, and soon enough he realised she was rising on all four. He followed and straightened up. His palms lay on her hips, and she arched her back. He thrusted, her muscles purposefully clenching around him, and he growled. She was spurring him, and the animal inside rebelled.

"Stay still..." He snarled and heard a coarse chuckle from her.

"Then move properly!" He ground his teeth, and the next few thrusts might have been fueled by a childish desire to prove that he indeed could move properly. She wailed, her arms giving up under her, and she fell on the ground. He slowed down, his hands clasping her waist, and he switched to long deep movements. She purred, stretching her arms ahead of her in a purely feline gesture, and he placed one hand near her shoulder on the ground. He stroked her elegant, seductive back with his palm, and she gave him a look over her shoulder. Her eyes were half lidded, and he doubted she could even see him. He slid in and out of her, pulling her into him with each thrust, and she dropped her head, the orange curtain of her thick mane brushing on the cloak they were on. She was making soft mewling sounds, and armed with the recently acquired knowledge he understood she was close to her release. He shortly thought of depriving her of it for all her previous dalliances but he loved the feeling of her petite body thrashing in rapture, contracting around his length, her back bent, nails digging into the cloak, and he leaned in and wrapped his arm around her waist. He sharply straightened, jerking her up and flush along his body. She whimpered, and he pushed into her forcefully. It didn't take long to bring her over the edge, her body started shaking and her arms flew up and around his neck. She howled, her voice rang through the woods again, and he heard her feverish mumbling. His own release mounting he felt satisfied enough just to hear his name, without paying much attention to the rest of her words, and while her silky body was quaking in his arms he gripped her tighter and plunged his member into her several more time.

He realised they fell only when his back hit the ground and a pinecone scraped at his ribs. He was holding Wren safely in his arms, and he started laughing. She hummed questioningly, even this indistinct sound shaky.

"Now I'm the one who got felt up by a cone." She twisted in his arms and buried her nose in his neck.

"They are pervs alright," she murmured, "Make sure it knows you are spoken for." She yawned widely, and he quickly kissed her ear.

"Am I now?"

"I have a dagger, wolf," she sounded sleepy, she immediately was after her release, he knew it already, "Think twice before wagging your tail elsewhere." He settled down and wrapped the cloak around both of them. She was already breathing evenly, her tiny fingers buried in his chest hair, and she mumbled something about tails in her sleep. He chuckled and closed his eyes. He knew Killiare was around, and he allowed sleep take him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Written by __Wynni _

CARYS/PHILIPPE

Carys took a moment to get her galloping heart and shaking hands under control. She had most certainly not been expecting a kiss like that. She wonderingly ran her hands over the bottom half of her face. The skin there was still sensitive from his beard and mustache. She was his Half. He'd never leave her and never love another. What a mountain of responsibility, and she was sworn to serve that blasted Crooked Dwarf seven years. How was that supposed to work? It was making her head swim. One step at a time, she reminded herself.

She shook her head and went outside. He had barely made it out of sight before the Change took him. She found his crumpled clothes right next to the cave opening. His shirt was slightly torn. On closer inspection, she could see it was just a seam rip. She could probably have that fixed before he'd finished hunting his supper.

Her blonde wolf came back from his hunt with a surprise for her: a freshly caught rabbit he dropped at her feet. It caught her off guard and made her feel a little guilty about what she had planned, or the glee she had been anticipating at the whining and yowling. "Philippe, you are a bundle of surprises, you know that?" He tilted his head at her in that way she was coming to take as 'isn't it obvious?"

"You've eaten?" He was chuffing at her again. She'd take that as a yes. Luckily, rabbit cooked fast, and the warding fire was still going. Soon enough, the rabbit was gone and it was time for them to be gone as well.

"Alright, you. C'mere. There's no way I can carry supplies for two, so guess what?" Here, he backed up at the evil grin she gave him. Laugh at me, will you? she thought. "You've got your own harness! Like it?" Yep, there was the whine. "Oh hush, I'm carrying the heavy stuff. You can help a little, now hold still." It took some doing; he was a big wolf, and she had barely allowed enough leeway for adjustment in some places. "There, now, shake." He huffed, and shook vigorously. The straps and buckles held.

"Well, it's not falling off, but is it rubbing anywhere?" Carys had kept the rabbitskin. It would do for padding if it were rubbing him raw. As best she could tell running her fingers between wolf and harness, it didn't seem to be. She tried not to notice just how thick and luscious his fur was. She could run her fingers through that glory forever and never get tired of it. "Alright then, we're off. By the way, you tore your shirt. I mended it while you were hunting. Apologies in advance if it's not to your liking." The aggrieved whuf sounded suspiciously human. She chuckled under her breath at it. It was time to get on the road.

Carys was amazed at the time they were making. She had underestimated how much light the full moon afforded them. It was still early enough in the year half the usual hazards were not out of hibernation yet, walking at night meant daylight hazards had gone to bed, and most night denizens weren't willing to tackle a wolfkin. She still kept her bow and quiver handy, if for no other reason than the familiar comfort it gave her.

Carys finally had to admit her energy was flagging. Philippe had been flicking his ears at her and cutting looks at her for a while now. Her feet hurt, and things were starting to blur a bit. She hadn't said anything simply because the further they got the less Philippe would worry about resting during the day.

First she found the mudslick. Her feet flew out from under her, and next she knew, she was sliding right up to her chin in the deepest boggy mudsink she'd ever had the displeasure to encounter. She heaved a heavy sigh and did her best not to panic. Mudsinks were notorious for drowning unwary travelers, especially ones that couldn't keep their heads and flailed about like ninnies. Her stern self lecture was only partially successful. She had a lid on her panic, but barely. If her slow searching hands didn't find some kind of purchase soon, it might break free.

She managed to stifle most of the shriek as she felt something tug on the pack. A muffled whuf informed her exactly who had her as she was slowly tugged from the slurping sucking embrace of the mudsink. She helped once arms and feet found purchase, but it was slow going. She was already exhausted, and the mud clinging to her only made it worse. There wasn't even any grass yet to speak of to scrape some of it off. Philippe started to wash her but she stopped him. 'No, no, you're not licking this stuff. Last thing we need is for you to catch bogcramps. No, we'll find a stream and wash in the morning." He whined, but curled up around her, offering his dry fur to keep her warm. She scruffed off a goodly portion of the mud using leaf litter, took his harness off him, then reached in one of the packs on it. She pulled out one of the extra woolen blankets from the cache and wrapped it around them both. "Here, this'll do." She fell asleep listening to his gentle chuffing at her.

Philippe woke stiff and livid. One look at the harness she'd made, and the way she arranged the loads, told the entire tale. His shoulders were a little sore, but he'd had worse just from a decent set of mail. How dare she load herself like a packmule! He wasn't some prancing pansy, and she wasn't some drudge!

He pulled out a fresh set of clothes and went to the nearby stream. March water was cold, but anything was better than caked mud. Carys may have scraped most of it away with dead leaves, but that still left plenty to cake over the both of them. Freshly washed, freshly dressed, he was ready to have a heart to heart with his love. That froze him fast in place.

He had a love now. A love that was under the same duress as his own brother. Hell take him if he'd lose two of the most important people in his world to the greed of imps. He wouldn't be at all surprised if part of the 'secret mission' his uncle and those hunters were on was to find an answer to their dilemma. Remembering that fierce redhead and silent sister of Carys, he seriously doubted letting anyone be taken would enter into it. Only full capitulation on the imps' part seemed likely.

He came back to where he'd left her wrapped in the blanket. The wool blanket was saturated with mud, along with Carys' entire outfit. He carefully scooped her up, still sleeping, and bore her to the stream. A good dunking would do her a world of good.

Within a breath, Carys' world went from warm and comfy to wet and cold. She sprang up from the water shrieking loud enough to scatter birds a mile around. Once she could see and hear again, boisterous laughter from the bank greeted her. "You! You! Ooooh! " Despite the obvious fury on her face, Philippe added insult to injury by tossing her a lump of soap.

"You were caked in mud, stank of bog, and what do you mean loading yourself down like that?" REALLY? Her allotment of the equipment was what this was all about? She was seriously rethinking this falling in love with him business. Oh no she wasn't.

It wasn't all male ego; she'd seen his horror at the stains on her blouse. Blisters had broken where the pack straps had rubbed too long, but her own stubborn pride had kept her going instead of taking the time to fix it right. Nevermind she'd stopped at least twice to check his pack. He was worried about her. It was quite probably the first time anyone not family was thinking about her comfort and needs. It didn't mean she was going to let him have it all his own way, though.

"Tell me, oh Gallant Knight, just how did you expect to fight if you're carrying all that weight?" Carys knew enough hunter lore to know that wolves depended on their speed and agility to stay safe in a fight. Loading him down would simply make him target practice for anything they encountered.

"Better than you could have run to safety with it." There was still plenty of growl there, but at least he was listening. "Not only that, but we could possibly rig a release on that infernal contraption for just such emergencies."

"A sailor's knot?" Carys knitted her brows. It could work. It was such a different experience to have someone that listened and offered solutions, instead of just trying to boss her.

"Sure, if you know how." That was also different. Carys could count on no fingers the number of village men or boys willing to admit they didn't know something. As if a lack of knowledge somehow belittled their manhood. If she weren't already in love with him, she just might have fallen all over again then.

"Alright, since I'm already wet and shivering, I'll get mud free, and you can set up camp this time." Carys lathered the soap up. She was just going to wash clothes and all. Luckily the blanket had caught on her legs and hadn't floated off downstream.

"Sure, and I'll repack those bags, too." That scamp. He was truly lucky she loved him, or she might just have to put nettles in his bedding. She shook her head and started cleaning mud out of places she didn't even realize before she had.

Soon enough, clothing, blanket, and self were mud free and smelling much better. She was thankful he hadn't grabbed the lye soap, but the fragrant gardenia scented one. When she was ready to come out of the water, her clothing pack was thoughtfully left high on the bank with a spare blanket. She quickly changed into another set of wool leggings, linen shirt, and wool overtunic and wrapped herself in the blanket. That water was cold! She needed a moment or so to heat back up.

She was also avoiding that talk Philippe had promised. Face it, girl, you're ace with everyone's problems but your own, she thought. She finally gathered her courage and the blanket around her and trudged back into camp. She found Philippe looking at her bow and arrows. She couldn't decipher his expression. She was usually good at that. "Are these yours?" He asked.

No, Philippe, the earth spat them out just to puzzle you was the response she bit her tongue down on, hard. What she answered was "I'm actually better with those than my belt knives." He sat down and laughed. Laughed until the tears ran.

"Care to share the joke?" The exasperation in her tone finally broke through, or the hilarity had run its course. Either way, he'd pulled her down in his lap before she could protest and buried his nose in her unruly curling mop. He sounded like a drowning man getting his first taste of air again. She'd wished he'd stop, because his breath on the back of her neck was causing an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"My brother's an archer." Carys turned so quickly in his lap her head bumped his nose hard. He rubbed the offended feature, still smiling at her. "And I prefer dual blades."

Carys could only sit there contemplating his laughing mouth, with that braided mustache bouncing in his mirth, remembering exactly how unbelievable their kiss had been. She shook her head hard to clear the fog, his words finally making sense. "You have got to be kidding me. Nerys tried for ages to teach me knifework. It never really took well, not compared to her. Fate, it seems, is having a ball at our expense."


	9. Chapter 9

_Written by kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

Wren stirred in her slumber, some strange noise scraping at her sleepy mind, and she buried her head deeper in the warmth she was cocooned in. Soon, however, she realized that the warmth was the source of the annoying pulsating hum. She assumed the man breathing evenly near her was snoring, so she kicked him slightly. It seemed to have no effect, and she grumpily opened her eyes. She didn't hear any unusual noises, just the early morning woods, the birds in the branches, small animals scurrying in the grasses, her sensitive, trained hearing catching the far away rustling of the young wolf moving between the trees. It was still dark, and Killiare was enjoying the last night of his first shift. She smiled and turned her head to look at the man sleeping near her.

She gently ran her fingers through the silky dark waves of the Wolfkin she had just shared herself with through the night. The previous one was spent by the fire. They had to make sure his dark haired nephew was in control when shifting. Most of Wolfkin remained conscious enough to recognise familiar faces and control their urges, but in rare cases they would get lost in the beast inside. Killiare was predictably good at it. The joie de vivre he had, the passionate but grounded character she could see in him was ideal for Wolfkin. She imagined his brother, collected, obviously ambitious, future alpha, she was familiar with the type, would have much more trouble with shifts. Relinquishing his clear human mind would aggravate him.

It was surprisingly uncomfortable to be unable to touch Darius the night before. They had had only one night before it, she pondered. She had never known such hunger for physical intimacy before. Judging by his clenched jaw and the distance he had kept from her body, when sitting on a fallen tree, he shared her feelings.

She realised she hadn't been completely fair to him. After his initial Recognition she held back, not allowing the mental link possible between them to develop fully. Among other things, she tried to preserve at least the independence of her thoughts. Wren of Leary never enjoyed any additional obligations, considering her duty before her clan a burden heavy enough. Men and villages had passed by, and she moved through her life with a clear set of rules in her head. Protect the innocent, kill a monster, never spend more than one night in the arms of the same man, take herbs to protect your body from harm and a possibility of a child.

Darius. Even his name seemed to evoke unfamiliar emotions in her, and she thought she should be frowning fighting the mawkishness in her, but instead she smiled and lay near him again, her eyes well accustomed to darkness fixed on his face. The dawn was close, they would have to rise and all the grievances their families were to face soon would be upon them. But for now she ran her fingers through his hair, onto his shoulder and splayed her hand on his chest. Her Darius...

She had always preferred different type of men, lithe, smooth, skin cool and hairless. She understood lying with such men was her way of keeping distance. Choosing a body similar to hers she hadn't had to face how different men and women were, how their relationships had always seemed to her a never ending fight for dominance. She had remained free and unaffected. She chose those who were also cold and distant emotionally, for whom it was just a pleasurable pursuit, gymnastics of sorts. She enjoyed it immensely but wouldn't want to remember their faces a week passed. No one would have been a winner in such fight, no kisses were exchanged in the morning, and she would soak in her favourite boiling baths stretching pleasantly tired muscles, her thoughts on the next village and the next job.

She shifted slightly and pressed her nose to the shoulder of the man beside her. She inhaled the fresh spicy smell of his skin and thought that if she could stay the way she lay at that moment forever she would. Obligations be damned. She heard the whirring hum again and closed her eyes. She understood it was seeping through their mental link, her consciousness partially unguarded while she had been sleeping, her defences lowered by the blissful comfort of his scorching body wrapped around her.

She'd always imagined that in a bond between a Wolfkin and a human the mental link would require certain skill to master, perhaps mutual training of sorts, but with a few deep breaths she felt strange serenity overcome her, and she relaxed into the connection between them. His mind was fascinating, in his uninhibited state, the dreams and images swirling. She was surprised by the amount of animal in his mind, so much was about sensations in a shift, smells, visions, sounds, wild energy running through his veins in a wolf form. Had she tried to do it when he were awake, she would have felt she was intruding. As any person he surely had thoughts he wanted to hide. She wouldn't see anything now, she knew that while he was sleeping his mind would stay closed from her. Thelink was mental, in his sleep darius was safe from oversharing. Were he awake, she'd ask. She was just getting a tinge of his emotions, and it was surprisingly pleasant. Everything about him was surprisingly pleasant, she conceded.

She lay in the comfortable warmth, lazily moving her fingers through his chest hair, pulps of her fingers caressing his skin, occasionally stopping over his even heartbeat, when something in the flow of his sensations changed. She felt the hum intensify, it assumed some sort of rhythm, measured to his heartbeat, growing louder and insistent, and she suddenly felt her skin flush. She saw his lashes flutter, but he remained asleep. Except for some of his parts. His member, previously semi erect, stirred to life. And she realised she wasn't touching it. She felt it through the link. His arousal spurred hers, intoxicating, heady, male. She moved closer to him and pushes her palm down. She grazed his stomach, enjoying the rough black hair going down, his response bouncing back into her mind and body, and she ran the tips of her fingers playfully along his length.

Hunger. Hunger flooded her, definitely his, foreign, she felt it in him, desperate, like a howl, greedy, and fierce. His breathing caught, and his hands jerked, one large palm on her hip, arm underneath her, another bent under his head. He shifted closer, as if searching more contact, and her playfulness was gone. She pushed her body onto his and presses her lips to his mouth. He moaned, his scorching palms lay at the back of her head, and she started kissing him greedily. It wasn't the reflection of his hunger though, but her own volition. Having realised what he felt, she saw not keeping herself distant from him was kindness.

He rolled her under him, his blue eyes finally flying open, vulnerable and slightly disoriented, and she wrapped her legs around him.

"I love you. Do you hear me?" She pressed a kiss after a kiss on his surprised face, her voice ringing earnestly. "I love you..." He caught her mouth, and she lifted her hips taking him in. Their love this time was deep and effusive, as if falling off a cliff, as if diving, but together, holding each other tightly. Through the link she felt his possessiveness, and joy, and surprised delight, and she readily opened her mind to him. The rhythm of his thrusts stuttered, and he gasped loudly. He lifted his head, his face previously pressed into her neck, and looked into her eyes in astonishment. She smiled and stroked his hair. She hoped he could see how grateful she was that he hadn't insisted on her openness before and how happy she was to give it to him now.

A few hours ago there was a moment that frightened her. In their lovemaking she suddenly felt that strange passiveness, her body stopped being hers, she froze, and she recognised the response of an alpha female to her mate. She was no Wolfkin, but her chemistry was compatible with his. She felt both exuberant to be so well matched, and resistant towards the lack of power such change imposed on her. They had found their footing through it last night, and she was relieved.

Now, it was perfect. Their bodies intertwined, sensations shared, she arched into him, and the release took them simultaneously. She moaned loudly and felt his body shake. It took her a few seconds to realise he was laughing.

"What?" Her voice was raspy. She assumed she once again had been very vocal. She couldn't remember.

"First you molest my mind in my sleep, and then assault my defenceless body. You are dangerous to sleep near." He was weighing on her, warm and familiar, and so, so pleasant, that she just chuckled with him. She considered a kick, but instead she quickly kissed his shoulder.

"I do not see you complaining about either of my transgressions." He smiled and shook his head. The sky had started lighting up, and he sighed. She didn't need a mind link to know it was time to return to reality. He placed one last lingering kiss on her throat and moved off her.

"Killiare can't go to the imp now," Wren heard her own voice.

"He can't." Darius agreed quietly, "Not after he found his Half. Your cousin deserves a mate who is there for her for the next seven years. And Philippe is now bonded with Carys. That's where he belongs." They were silent for a second, and then suddenly she straddled him.

"You are not going instead of him either..."

"Wren..." He interrupted her softly.

"No," her voice was loud and shaking with anger. "I don't care… I'm not giving you up. Gods be my witnesses, I've been a good girl. I have fulfilled my duties before my clan, I never broke a code, I deserve happiness." He swallowed with difficulty, his eyes sad.

"Wren..."

"Shut up. Don't say there is no other way out. He might not even want you." Her jaws clenched, she felt dark rage rising. "He won't want anybody with a dagger sticking out of his throat."

"Wren, there were contracts..."

"I don't care! Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care. I don't care that he didn't break a code. I'll provoke him, and he will."

He opened his mouth to contradict her, but then suddenly something changed in his eyes, and he froze with his lips half open. She stayed still, waiting for him to speak. His face was thoughtful, and then he sharply sat up. Her legs went around his waist and locked behind him.

"Let's talk this through, Wren." There was some new spark in his eyes. "Same imp, two villages, but two families that previously had lived very close." She nodded, quiet not to interrupt his concentration. "A wolf and a healer. But the girl is from the hunter's clan. We are missing something..."

"Besides the fact that there is a ludicrous amount of coincidences in this story?" She snorted derisively. "And by the way, Carys is not just a healer, she is to be the Chief Healer one day. Like my mother."

"Your mother?" Suddenly he smacked the heel of his palm to his forehead. "I am a blithering idiot!"

"That you are. But what are we talking about here?" He gave her a fake glare, and she giggled.

"Your mother was Norma of Leary, the wife of the Chief Hunter." She nodded. "She died in the Big Hunt, at the very last day, in the same field as my Grandfather." She frowned, not understanding him. "And your cousin, Carys is to become her replacement, right?"

"Yes, since I was such a disappointment. More interested in swords than herbs."

"But you are still a healer..." He smiled to her softly.

"Just because I don't like to fail in anything. I am annoying that way."

"That you are," he returned her remark of earlier, and she stuck her tongue at him. "So, what do we have? An alpha and the head of a hunter clan, a future alpha and a future Chief Healer, a huntress and another Wolfkin related to the alphas. Two families that lost their forepersons in the same fight, at the same place, the same day. What does it give us?"

"Taking away Carys and Killiare ruins both clans, leaves us weak and defenseless. Us bonding though… It is the most certain way to make us work together. So we have two forces at work here..."

"Exactly," he tapped her nose with the tip of his long finger. "One force is trying to weaken both families, another one makes us unite. If you were an imp, and hunters had too much power watching over the peace between the Humans and the Earthens, while Wolfkin would be the strongest of species among non-humans and still following their code, what would you do?"

"I'd make them fight each other." She finished his thought, and her eyes widened. He nodded slowly.

"I never liked Killiare and Philippe's father. He was an arrogant jerk, but my sister had always gotten what she wanted. But I can hardly see him as a murderer..."

"Wait," she interrupted and pushed away from him. He didn't let her, his long arms wrapped around her waist. "Taking away the most gifted children of both clans… That I can see. But you are insinuating the imps have meddled with the Blood Trials!"

"Is it possible?" She opened her mouth to object, but no words came out. "Is it possible, Wren?"

"I don't know!" Her voice was desperate. "Had I been asked a week ago, I would have laughed at the mere thought. I would have said that Wolfkin were monsters just because it's in their nature!" She had never doubted her judgement in her life before. It was painful. She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. She was Wren of Leary, the daughter of the Chief Hunter, and she knew when it was time to take responsibility. "If it were possible, it would be a perfect plan to eradicate both families. It is easier for a hunter to draw a sword than to see a person in your kin. You are just animals to us." She expected apprehension from him, but his eyes were soft, and he tenderly brushed his lips on hers.

"You do not come out that gracious in the tales we tell our children either, darling." There was light teasing in his tone, and she exhaled.

"Are we the monsters in your stories?"

"The scariest ones," he gently moves an orange curl off her face. "Cold-blooded," the tips of his fingers slipped lower, on the side of her neck, and paused on her pulse, "Blood-thirsty," he stroked her collarbones, "Heartless..." When the pulps of his fingers brushed over the tip of her left breast, her body jolted and she sucked in air. His voice was low, velvet, and her stomach tensed, she instinctively squeezed him with her legs. He smirked and lowered his lips on her clavicles.

With an impressive growl, she smacked his shoulder, hard. "Stop it right now! We are talking."

Completely unfazed, he licked across pale tender skin between her breasts, "I am done talking."

"We haven't decided anything! And we still don't know what is going on! Darius..." The last word came out rather shaky, since his tongue circled her bright red nipple. He hummed to show he was listening. "Can you please stop for a moment?" Her tone was sincere, and he lifted his face.

"Yes, darling?" That was the second time he'd used the moniker, and she couldn't pretend to ignore it anymore. She grabbed his ears and kissed him ardently. A few minutes later, already on the ground, she suddenly returned to her senses and started flailing her arms. He was kissing her stomach, and after a sensitive slap of her small hand at the back of his head, he chuckled.

"What?"

"Don't call me "darling" in that purry voice of yours, it turns me into a brainless enamoured lass, and I can't think straight." He licked her ribs, "And don't look so smug. You've been in my head. There is no point pretending I am cold and distant anymore. But we have to decide what to do with Killiare and Carys."

He rose on his elbows over her. "Killiare and Nerys have to stay behind. And we need to figure out what exactly is going on before Carys's three month are over." She nodded. "So, do you know any place we can leave the kids?"

She smirked and wrapped her legs around his waist again. "I know just the place. On the road ahead, there is a cellar..."


	10. Chapter 10

_Written by Wynni_

CARYS/PHILIPPE

"Carys," Philippe's tone was suddenly serious. "We need to talk." Oh lord help her, Carys thought. Here it comes. She watched him open and close his mouth a few times, before he simply growled "Devil take it all" and kissed her.

Carys thought her head was going to explode. The feelings, if possible, were more overwhelming than last time. His hands were tangled in her hair, catching her up close to him. She could feel his rapid heartbeat and mad body heat. She could taste him as he swirled his tongue with hers. He tasted of woodsmoke and March morning air. Her breath came out in a long low ulation of want as her own hands came up to cradle his head closer.

The need for air made them break the kiss. He still had that concentrated, determined look on his face, and he still held her face hostage with a gentle but strong grip. "Carys" his voice was gruff, as if fighting its way free of his constricted throat. "Carys, you're my Half."

Carys blinked, as if it were sinking in finally. She'd guessed, she'd known it mentally, but hearing him say it made it real finally. It still stunned her.

Well, at least she wasn't running. Philippe studied her flushed face and dilated eyes and brushed an errant curl back from her face. He had thought the gardenia soap would be perfect for her. His warm fingers sent a shudder down to her toes. She turned into the caress, and Philippe took full advantage of the exposed neck. He took in another deep breath savoring her scent mixed with the soap, peppering her nape with quick little kisses. Then she said words to make his heart sing.

"I love you, too." Sitting on his lap had sent her body temperature skyrocketing, yet she felt goosebumps on her arms. Nobody had ever caressed her behind her ear, and she liked the feel of his calloused fingers on her skin. The skin all around her mouth was already tingling from his curly beard. She ran her fingers through it, enjoying the texture. It was surprisingly soft against her fingers. Looking in his liquid blue eyes, she felt she could drown in the wealth of emotion there. She wasn't ready for their next kiss.

As soon as their breath met, she could feel a difference. Something new was happening. She could feel Philippe's own elation and relief. "Silly man. How could I not love you?" She murmured against his lips. He responded by crushing her to him. She loved his strong arms and broad chest. She'd sometimes imagine curling herself up under his protective arms, and just staying there. Nobody could drag her out, not even the Crooked Dwarf. Something of what she thought must have transferred to Philippe, because she could feel deep chuckles in his chest.

"But if you do, I couldn't do this, Love." She felt hands, his warm wide calloused hands, making their way to her chest. She felt the goosebumps across her stomach trail behind them, and her nipples pebbled in anticipation. She couldn't stop the gasp when his hands finally made contact, caressing and rolling both nipples.

Philippe couldn't believe how good she felt. He couldn't imagine anything feeling so fine, but his little Carys decided to prove him wrong. Her soft hands had crept inside his tunic, and were playing havoc across his chest and stomach, exploring every curve and curl he had. She had him quivering and shaking with need in no time flat. Now he was the one groaning aloud, causing her to laugh.

That laugh turned into a gasp when one hand left her nipples to dive into her leggings, seeking her center. "Ph-Philippe?" His name rose to a squeaky pitch, asking the only way she could.

"Sh, Love. Let me give you this." His need was riding him hard, but this was her first time, he knew. There was no way he wasn't going to pleasure her first. If she kept making all those little noises, though, he might just come with her. He found her curls already wet, and that made his ego soar. He easily slipped a finger through her folds and found her nub. The long intake of breath at his neck made him grin like a fool when he caressed it. "Easy Love, just enjoy." His own breath was a little sketchy. Her breath on his neck was causing shivers down his back.

He held her close as he caressed and rubbed her most sensitive spot while her pleasure built. It would have been easy to tell even without the Recognition feedback. She was getting more vocal. Her hands were rubbing all over his chest, fisting in his body hair, and she rubbed her face into his neck, kissing and nipping. He was having a hard time staying on target because she couldn't sit still.

He was not prepared for the storm of her first orgasm. Her whole body tensed on his lap, her head thrown back as the spasms of release shook her top to toe. A long deep voiced howl seemingly from the depths of her soul trebled and rang through the trees. He never felt so smug in his life.

A very satisfied Carys took one look at his smug expression and with all the love in her heart told him. "Oh hush, you." Philippe's eyebrows rose as she leaned in, grinning at him, and he felt his belt loosen and fall away. "Your turn, Love." Little hands started digging for the buried treasure. He yelped. He was not used to being manhandled. It rather surprised him he liked it.

She finally found what she was looking for and started stroking. Now it was his head lolled back in bliss. This Recognition thing was handy. She could tell when what she was doing was helping, and when it wasn't. She grinned as a thought occurred to her. Philippe's eyes opened warily. He didn't know what, but he could feel she was up to something. He felt her moving down his body, every touch and caress sending sparks of pleasure spiraling through him. Then he felt her lips. Warm, soft lips and her hot, wet mouth enveloped him. He bellowed in surprise and then howled in pleasure. It was very hard for her to grin in triumph; he was more than a mouthful. Listening to the prompts of Recognition, she started to work his shaft, sucking him deep and swirling her tongue around him. From the sound of it, he was thoroughly enjoying her attentions.

Philippe couldn't stand anymore, and she was entirely too pleased with herself. Carys found him pulling her clothes off willy nilly as he needed more of her against more of him. His fever infected her, burning along the connection between them. His clothes flew every which way. Soon enough they were flush skin to skin, and it was perfection.

Blue eyes met brown in a long heated moment as she positioned herself in his lap, guiding him inside her slowly. She gasped at the girthy hot heat filling and stretching her; he at the squeezing warmth that surrounded him. He held himself trembling at her barrier, afraid of the pain he was about to cause. Carys simply sat on down on him, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation of pain that never came. She looked to Philippe for an answer, but he just shrugged. He took her plump hips in his broad calloused hands, and started a slow rocking rhythm that had her gasping her pleasure as she clung to him.

Carys was not the only one experiencing new sensations. Nothing Philippe had experienced with any tavern wench or mischief eyed farm girl compared. Previous rolls in hay had not left him so desperate for one more kiss or one more caress. Carys' bountiful charms were a banquet Philippe didn't think he'd ever get his fill. He nibbled kisses up and down her throat, eventually kissing his way down to her generous bosom, rolling, suckling, and nibbling on her till she was near incoherent with pleasure. Those strong hands that had been caressing the back of his head were now fisted tightly in his hair, and her smooth back arched to give him more access. Between her pleasure thrumming down the shared link and the building pleasure from her hot squeezing pressure, Philippe was sure his heart would burst .

As their rhythm increased together, he found himself joining his voice to Carys', unable to stop himself. Their dueling duet built to a crescendo of mutual bliss. Both came back to reality slowly. Carys buried her face in the crook of Philippe's neck, slowly trying to get her breath back. Philippe held her tightly about her waist with one arm, while the other slowly stroked her back. Only the rhythmic sway of her loose curls gave away his own efforts to recover.

Carys took her time, lulled by the sound of her and Philippe's hearts. Funnily enough, it seemed they started to beat in time with each other. Yes, instead of two distinct ones, it seemed now only one strong heartbeat sounded between their chests. She finally gathered enough breath and aplomb to fold her hands ladylike on his chest, rest her chin on them, and ask "So, Philippe, what did you want to talk to me about?" It took him all of two seconds to burst out in laughter, and pepper her with tickling kisses that sent her own bouncing through the trees.


	11. Chapter 11

_Written by RagdollPrincess_

NERYS/KILLIARE

Nerys pulled away with a gasp. This was the sixth night she'd spent with Killiare and she desired him desperately. Pushing him away, she turned suddenly and sat by the fire with her back to him as she angrily stabbed a stick at the embers.

He was silent behind her, but unlike the previous nights when she'd done this and he'd gone to sit far from her, allowing her her space, this time he settled beside her, his arms draped lazily over his knees.

"What is it?" he asked calmly.

She didn't answer and only stabbed the embers harder, glaring at them.

"Nerys, please. Have I done something to upset you?" His voice was low and gentle. He sounded concerned, and she felt guilty.

"No, not at all," she said.

"Then what's the matter?" he asked. She didn't know how to respond or know how to explain her fears and remained silent.

"I understand the first time can be painful, for you," he said carefully. She froze, her eyes fixed on the flames of the dying fire, not daring to move or look at him. Finally she spoke.

"I'm not afraid of a little pain." Her low voice was barely perceptible above the cracklings of the fire.

"Then what?" he asked, clearly more confident now that she was talking to him.

She began to stab furiously at the embers again, stubbornly refusing to speak for several minutes.

"I'm not used to being bad at things." Her voice was barely a whisper. She could feel the pinch between her brows as she scowled angrily. She didn't miss the surprise on his face as he stared at her. And then he began to laugh.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him in irritation.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better I'll have nothing to compare it to."

She looked at him unable to mask her surprise. "Really?" The stick lay in her hands forgotten as the flames flickered feebly.

He didn't make eye contact with her as he shrugged, his eyes fixed on his hands. She could make out the faintest blush on his neck through the light of the fire. "No one has ever shown much interest before," he murmured.

Nerys glanced at him and caught his warm chocolate gaze. She studied his features, her eyes lingering on his full bottom lip that she loved to run the tip of her tongue over. "I find that hard to believe," she said.

He shrugged. "I haven't been sought after, being of wolfkin family."

Nerys looked at him levelly. "I hadn't considered that." He slid closer to her and reached for her hand. He had to gently pry her nervous fingers from the stick.

"Nerys," he said. She refused to look at him. "Nerys," he said again, more insistently. She gazed stubbornly at his chin. "Tell me, please, what can I do?"

"I want it to be pleasurable ... for you. And I'm concerned that it won't be." Her cheeks coloured at her admission and she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

He drew her hand to his lips. "Nerys," he whispered. "It will be with you. It will of course be pleasurable for me."

She dropped her eyes to their joined hands. "Killiare, I've never ... felt this way before." She wasn't sure what she had meant to say but she'd surprised herself. She glanced at him to see if he understood. His gaze was happy and warm. "Over the past days, I feel like I've come to know you. I feel very, attached, even though I avoided at first, and I don't want to do something that will make you find me unappealing."

He appeared to nearly laugh at her words. "How could anyone ever find you unappealing?"

Nerys shrugged at him. "Wren is sought after by so many, and Carys is warm and sensual. I'm not like either of them."

"Nerys," Kili said, again. "I feel it too."

"You feel what?" she asked, not understanding his meaning.

"The, attachment. I feel it as well. I think ... I believe," he suddenly stammered as he spoke. "What I mean to say is that, well, I am very fond of you." His words were rushed as he spoke, and he stared at her intently, waiting for her response.

She exhaled in relief as he spoke and ventured a smile, which he returned. Although she was uncertain of her future with him, she felt comforted by his shared affection for her. She suddenly was aware of how close he was to her again. Her breath caught as he leaned in slowly and pressed his mouth to hers. She had no desire to stop him this time.

Bringing her hands to his chest, she slid her hands over his shoulders to push his cloak from his shoulders. He pulled back quickly. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice suddenly husky and hoarse.

She nodded, feeling suddenly eager. She felt warm and safe and pressed herself to him, capturing his lips hungrily again. "I'm sure," she gasped. "These days have been agony."

He hummed as he gripped her back firmly. "They have for me as well." His hands came round to her.

They removed their clothing, their heavy mails, their boots, in a tumble of nervous laughter. Nerys gasped as Killiare brought his mouth to her neck, just below her ear. His actions became increasingly frantic, and at one point Nerys heard him growl, deep in his throat, when suddenly his whole body tensed and he emitted a pained moan.

"Are you unwell?" she asked, as she pulled back in alarm.

He stared at her, breathing deeply, his face ravenous, his eyes black as ink. His mouth stretch in a wide wolfish grin as he leaned in to capture his mouth again.

"I am more than well," he said. Nerys gasped when she realized he hadn't spoken, that his mouth was still moving over hers hungrily.

"You mated!" He pulled back and grinned at her words. "I had hoped that would happen, but I dared not wish."

"I suspected it would," he murmured, his voice husky. "There were signs."

"Does this mean that … we are bonded?" she asked, although she knew the answer.

"If you wish it." His eyes held her, and she felt his hunger as though it were her own. She also felt his apprehension and insecurity as he awaited her response.

"I do," she whispered, out loud unnecessarily. His mouth was already upon hers before she was done speaking. She pressed against him again, hungrily, her heart soaring at the unexpected change this week had brought her. She could feel his own thoughts that mirrored hers, his happiness at this moment of realization of their future lives together.

She could feel his thoughts. She was nervous, but she could tell he wasn't noticing. He'd been taken by the mating and was preoccupied only with his goal. He was hardly aware of his own thoughts, she could now tell. She marvelled suddenly at men's minds. As much as she felt uncomfortable with his being able to see hers, she didn't find it too bothersome. But she marvelled at how single minded he'd become.

She realized he could hear everything she was thinking even as she reasoned this out. He looked up at her. "You seem preoccupied. Are you sure you want to do this?" He was referring to the plethora of thoughts running through her head, she realized in surprise.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm just a little bit unnerved by how exposed I feel with your being able to know everything I'm feeling or thinking. And I was nervous before."

"Don't be," he murmured, his thoughts returning to his task. He clearly seemed to think he'd reassured her.

Nerys' mind followed his as his hands explored his skin, pressing against his chest. She had until this moment avoided looking at him. The night was still well lit as it had only been a few days since the full moon, and the sky was clear. With the flickering of the light Nerys was able to see Kili well as she pulled back shyly, forcing herself to gaze fully upon him. And she was disconcerted.

She'd heard stories of men's bodies but was not prepared for how unappealing she found it at first. It looked like an ugly flesh coloured snake protruding arrogantly from between his legs. She wasn't horribly alarmed as she imagined her body was not perfect for his eyes either, but she hadn't been able to stop the thought from reaching him as he drew back suddenly, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Oh!" he said. "I … ah … oh."

"Killiare," she rushed. "I didn't mean, I was just surprised. I haven't ever seen before." She could feel his embarrassment and shame, and some sort of unspecific memory from his past of being teased or bothered by non wolfkin boys who caught him passing water in the woods when he was young surfaced briefly before he quickly shoved it away. He raised his hands for a moment. She had clearly found one of the things that would deter him from his single minded pursuit, and she regretted it horribly, feeling panicked and ashamed.

"Killiare!" she exclaimed again. "What can I do?"

"I need you to calm yourself," he breathed. "I can feel your angst."

"Alright," she breathed. She wondered how the connection between minds was at all helpful, desirable as it had seemed moments before. She closed her eyes, her fighter's training helping her soothe and calm herself, allowing her to clear her mind. She willed away the panic and fear that their first joining would be horrible and would ruin them, bonded as they now were.

Feeling calmer, she looked at him. "Thank you," he smiled.

"Killiare, I think you're very attractive. I'm truly innocent in men's bodies." He smiled and nodded, and she could feel his confidence returning. They moved together again, but she noticed he was not as hard as before. She had heard a woman speaking once of using her mouth to stimulate a man. Killiare groaned, and Nerys realized again he'd heard her thought. She could tell he greatly desired for her to do so.

Biting her lip, she dropped to her knees before him as she gazed upon his semi-tumescent cock. She had been wrong before and now felt it was quite appealing. Killiare whimpered as she brought her mouth to him, running her tongue experimentally over the tip. Then she quickly took him into her mouth, remembering what she'd heard women say about how men liked to feel themselves fully in a woman's mouth. She began to bob her head up and down as she thought she should when suddenly she heard Killiare hiss and felt that he was in pain.

"What's is it? Have I done it wrong?"

"Teeth," he gasped. She was relieved to see he was still hard but realized she had harshly grazed her teeth over the skin that must be very sensitive. She felt herself blush deeply, mortified that she had not considered this. She began to wonder if she would be able to perform the act at all. She had felt shy before, and now she seemed to be bumbling things horribly.

"Shall I try again?" she asked, relieved that he nodded. He was anxious, but stroked her hair soothingly.

"Don't worry," he said. "You're very nervous, as am I. But it … makes it … more difficult." He laughed, and she realized he was saying his own nerves were already a problem, and hers added were making it hard for him to focus.

"Alright," she whispered, returning her mouth to him. She was barely successful in willing away an awkward feeling that was beginning to descend on her. She felt bare and exposed, on her knees in a forest, trying experimentally to mouth a man when she hardly knew what she was doing. She felt horribly unprepared for this moment and was beginning to worry she was going to make a horrible error.

Wrapping her mouth around him again, she was careful to keep her teeth covered. She felt him relax, which helped her to feel more at ease. He groaned and she could tell he was beginning to greatly enjoy her actions as she felt his hardness return. Remembering another thing she'd heard, she brought her hand up to cup his sac firmly, earning a pained shout from him this time.

"What is it?" she pulled back. He was bent over slightly, his hands on his knees, unable to speak. She could feel nausea and pain radiating from him and she realized she had gripped him hard.

"Oh, I should have known!" She was horribly mortified now. Did she not know this was an undefended area that she herself had used to her advantage in combat? "Killiare! What can I do?" He moved quickly away from her, and she felt anger and annoyance as well as pain mingling in his thoughts. The feeling stalled her, and she felt shame building up inside of her, morphing with the realization that this had gone horribly and was truly ruined.

"I think I'd like to stop," Killiare gasped. Reese felt even more ashamed. When had a man ever been the one to cease when he had a willing maid? She realized how unappealing she was, how inept she was that she was unable to maintain a man's interest within minutes of his reaching his goal.

Angry with herself as she began to feel tears build in her eyes, particularly because he knew they were there as she could hide nothing from him now. Turning her back to him, she sorted their clothes angrily, throwing his towards him as she dressed herself roughly. She could tell he had composed himself, his thoughts were gentle again, but she could feel he pitied her as well. She refused to voice her thoughts though. There was no need, but it made her feel as though she had some control over what he knew of her shame.

"Nerys," he murmured. She cringed at his loving tone. "Please, don't be angry. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

She snorted at his words as she drew her mail over her head.

"Nerys, please. We are bound to have difficulties. It mustn't be easy the first time, and sharing thoughts, I thought it was desirable, but I can see now we will have to take time, be careful with each other. And it will pass in a few days, and then maybe we can try again, until we know each other better?"

She straightened up and turned to him, suddenly furious. "We will never try again," she spat. "I will never put myself in such a mortifying situation again. You may be mated to me, but I will never allow myself to experience such shame again." She could feel how sad and hurt he was at her words and immediately felt regret at hurting him, not that she could hide her thoughts as it was. Feeling no more need to speak, she turned and walked to the opposite side of the fire. She could tell he knew he should not approach her again that evening.

This was how they spent the night, far apart from each other, unable to escape the intermingled thoughts of shame, embarrassment, judgment and despair that no couple, particularly a new one, should ever know about the other. She knew with time she'd be able to block the sharing of thoughts, but she had to wonder how people who were mated in this way managed to survive the early months of the relationship.

The next day was no better. Wren and Darius had returned to the camp, and Killiare and Nerys spent the morning in silence as they made to move on. Killiare tried to speak to Nerys when they walked, but she refused to engage in discussion. She couldn't keep him from her thoughts, but she found she became better and better at blocking him. She was grateful that it was a skill that could be learned as it appeared they were destined to share these thoughts every full moon from this day forth, willingly or not.

"Nerys, are you alright?" Wren had approached Nerys after two more days of silence. Nerys had not missed the worried glances Wren had shared with Darius. Nerys was grateful that the mind connection with Killiare had passed, only typically lasting three nights at most.

"Yes, cousin, I am fine," Nerys said harshly, not looking at Wren's strange concerned eyes.

"I can see that you are not. Did you and Killiare argue?" Wren seemed truly worried for her.

"We did not," Nerys said. "Believe me, cousin, all is well." She didn't care that her voice had a forced lightness to it. She couldn't help being annoyed later that day when she saw Darius in furtive conversation with Killiare. She knew Killiare was sharing everything with Darius, and Darius even cast Nerys concerned looks from time to time.

Nerys ignored them, instead focusing on the plan she and Killiare had to trap Wren and Darius in a cellar of an abandoned house to protect them from the Crooked Dwarf. They would arrive the next day, and despite her current circumstances, Nerys was a woman of her word. She had promised Killiare of the plan, and she would not stray from that path.


End file.
